


Self-Destruction In Reverse

by calibratingentropy



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Accidental Turning, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Infidelity, M/M, Manipulation, Non Consensual Turning, Unhealthy Relationships, Werewolves, werewolf cults
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-12-13 13:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 42,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11760435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calibratingentropy/pseuds/calibratingentropy
Summary: The story of how Robert Small, through a series of spectacularly bad decisions, managed to discover the existence of werewolves and inadvertently liberate a number of werewolves from the control of a violently anti-human werewolf cult. And somehow put his life back together in spite of repeated efforts to destroy it.(Additional tags/relationships will be added or changed as the story progresses.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't follow The Cult Ending, but there is a cult in this, and also werewolves, because every fandom needs more werewolves. This starts out with non-consensual turning/biting, as a warning. Also, Joseph, Robert, and Mary are absolute wrecks, and all three could use some help. It will be awhile before any of them get it.

It was weird, Robert thought. The Christiansens were weird and miserable, and stubborn as hell with their alone together bullshit. It was weird, and they kind of hated each other behind the public faces and smiles and ‘dears’ but they kind of liked him. Somehow? And Robert was an asshole. He owned that about himself. (He hated that about himself.) It was damn weird that they both seemed to want him and not want him at the same time. 

Mary… Mary he kind of got. She was the more honest about her unhappiness, drowning it in alcohol and flirting with everything that breathed but never going anywhere. She matched him drink for drink, drunk as hell so fast but somehow tottering on like a good soldier well past when a not-weird woman probably would have gotten alcohol poisoning, and her stories were ridiculous and good and believable and the best damn lies he’d heard from any mouth but his own in a long time. She laughed at him about cryptids, but went out in the woods at night hunting bullshit anyway, and watching with shining eyes while he carved instead. She was a damn beautiful woman under the scowls and the haggard exhaustion and what-ever-the-hell made her burn fever hot and always, always look a bit underfed. Probably all the alcohol; put her near a flame and she’d go up like kindling, soaked so deep into her it was. So strong too, to put up with Joseph and his bullshit and the damn creepy kids. The older three anyway. The baby was the only one that had any of Mary about him, and Robert wondered sometimes, because who wouldn’t?

And when the alcohol failed them and pushed out vulnerable truths instead of the lies that they both plastered their cracks up with, she accepted it with quiet understanding and never said a word again. Like he did with her. When he broke down about Val, about his dad, and about how much he wished he’d done things different, she listened. And when she railed about Joseph and sunken expectations and how marriage was not what it was cracked up to be, he listened. And when she bruised her fists against his chest, furious and miserable and desperate, and said she wanted to just drop it all, say fuck it, and _run_ , he’d said “yeah, let’s go” and tried to kiss her. 

And she turned her face away. “I can’t.” And Robert had let it stand. Let the “why the hell can’t you?” stay unsaid. And waited. Was still waiting. Even to this morning when she stormed in drunk, shoved him against the wall with way more strength than a woman who looked so stretched-taught over her bones should have, and told him “Don’t.” 

But he hadn’t listened to the don’t. Definitely still wasn’t. Because all of the sudden Joseph was coming around. Often. And he was so damn charming. (Robert soaked up the attention like it was water in a desert.) It was a facade, and some kind of lie. Or con. Or distraction so Robert wouldn’t notice what he was really up to. Joseph knew it. Robert knew it. Mary sure as hell knew it. But he was _charming_ , and behind the scripted words, and his dumb Margarita Zone, and the perfectly posed smile, Joseph’s body betrayed him. Eyes lingered places they shouldn’t. Hands flexed like he wanted to touch. His spine bent him towards Robert like a sunflower towards the sun, and wasn’t that fucking hilarious? (It was weird, _off_ , and somehow when the words finally matched the body language, Robert felt like he was being lied to.)

And Robert saw some cracks, or was allowed to see them. And he got it. Loveless marriage strained to the breaking point, but what about the kids, and the town, and religion? It made perfect sense to long for something else. Something more. 

It was weird. The back of his brain that somehow managed to stay mostly coherent even when he was sloshed kept asking _why_? Why him? Why now? Why was he believing in the fucking yacht and the wine, and the definitely lived in but a little too picturesque picture in front of him? Why had Mary said “I can’t”?

But wine did funny things to his head. But Robert was a lonely fuck that craved just for one night to pretend that he really was waking up next to someone who’d be there the morning after, and the morning after that, and after that. Craved touch (and sex, definitely absolutely also sex), and waking up with warm breaths slow and steady against his neck, and in an actual bed at that. He was pathetic, and after all the times he’d reached for that pretty little dream and ended up hating them (himself) in the mornings, he really should have known better. 

The wine said go for it anyway. The divorce papers with Mary’s signature said go for it. (Said “go back to Mary and take her away, you dumbass” too but Mary was the best thing in his life, and Robert couldn’t have good things, now could he?) Joseph was fever hot and insistent, telling Robert all the ways he mattered (lies, goddamned lies, but just as hard to say no to as another drink). Something about the quiet desperation in Joseph’s voice said go for it. 

Joseph bodily picking Robert up and tossing him on the bed like he weighed nothing rang uncomfortable bells through his skull, drowned out before he could protest by wine-soured kisses and hands scalding against his skin under his jeans. Fuck. _Fuck_. Okay. His dick was hard and wailing, and he really, really needed a lay. Maybe Joseph was actually being honest about this being the start of something, and not the end of everything. 

Maybe that burning mouth would unlatch from his chest and keeping going down. It’d feel damn amazing around his dick, sucking— Okay. No blow jobs. They could—

Absolutely not. Robert didn’t bottom on principle, hadn’t even thought about it for a damn long time, and he wasn’t going to start now. Joseph was so nervous, tense and trembling with it, tight and resisting when he tried a finger, and okay, grinding one off against those nice, lily-white thighs would work too. 

It wasn’t doing things _right_ , and Robert wanted to laugh in Joseph’s face, but the wine slowed him down, and Joseph’s tongue was doing some really interesting things to the skin right under his ear and oh _god_ —

The hell had Joseph gotten gloves from? Robert was down for less mess, but those bells were ringing again, the not-good ones that hurt in ways he wanted to avoid. Joseph was staring, so open and vulnerable. _Wrecked._

Such praise was dripping from his mouth, and Robert shouldn’t believe half of it but it was good to hear. Maybe bottoming wasn’t so bad. Mood for fucking Joseph already lost at any rate. Never could stay hard through prep, and Joseph was being a jerk (unintentional, right? He couldn’t take his eyes away from the sight of his fingers in Robert’s asshole.) by not even trying to help him out with that.

Robert twitched away anyway, hissing at the sting. Too fast, ass— Kissing. They could do that. Kissing was definitely a distraction from hurried fingers and not quite enough lube. His ass was going to be so damn sore tomorrow and bells again. 

Hold on… “Wrap your tool, idiot—“ 

He was not barebacking. He was _no—fuck_. Joseph’s dick was like a red-hot iron, and what a rookie mistake to just shove in without checking first and… It was good. Why was Joseph so damn warm all over? Robert could _feel_ the heat, and it was good. Really good. Maybe even fucking great. It was going a long way to help abused muscle relax and his dick was twitching interest again, and he usually had to work at it when he bottomed. 

Joseph looked so goddamned awed, leaning too much weight on Robert, but twitching and making the best needy noises. Knowing that he wasn’t even really doing anything but lying there yet and Joseph was already so far gone was… flattering. 

They could do this. It could work and Robert could actually get off without needing his own hand afterward. Just brace his feet, roll his hips a bit and damn, damn, yeah. Robert didn’t need to hold on, definitely not, but the muscles bunching and straining in Joseph’s shoulders were good beneath his hands. Joseph was pressing sloppy kisses along his jaw, neck, shoulders, too lost to focus. Great. He had the all-too-perfect pastor begging, praising, telling him how good and perfect and sexy he was. Fucking win in his book. 

The pace was breakneck, probably literally bruising, and how Joseph had found just the right angle on the first thrust, Robert didn’t know, but he was climbing again, holding on by a thread, and the twinge of one knee really protesting this whole deal. Robert just needed a little more to come. Joseph was gonna come. Robert fisted a hand in Joseph’s too perfect hair and the kiss was clicking teeth—sharp, weirdly big in Joseph’s mouth and his smiles never did show more than a flash of white, did they?—but that didn’t matter. 

“Come on, come already.” 

“You first.” 

“No, I get—“ Oversensitive, but his breath was punched out of him by a hand twisting around his dick, and a deep thrust and grind that was so fucking perfect. How was Joseph so good and so weirdly inexperienced (or was it an act?) at the same time? The gathering sweat from Joseph’s furnace heat made skin slide over skin so slick, and Robert was too drunk to hold off. He pushed his head back into the bed as pleasure rolled through him, dick adding to the mess between their bodies in rippling spurts. God _damn_ —

Instead of settling back into afterglow, Joseph was going at him harder and it was too much. Good, so damn good, but it _hurt_ , and Robert thought his nails were drawing blood and fuck, fuck, _fuck—_

_Finally_. Joseph was still at last, rapid panting making Robert’s neck go hot-cold-hot and little shuddering twitches of muscle signaling that he was filling Robert’s ass with his load and thank god, Robert could finally relax and let himself float in the pleasure of it as his dick went sof—

Pain like the first lightning strike in a thunderstorm, blinding and unexpected and what the fuck? It speared him, impaled him, and he was pretty sure the hoarse wail was his own and what the _fucking_ hell? 

Robert stared blearily at the ceiling of the cabin, trying to make sense of why he hurt like he’d just been stabbed. Joseph was heavy and smothering hot on top of him, dick still in his ass, and hands on the move. Then Joseph unclenched his jaw and the pain finally contracted and then burst out again as a tongue pressed against the meaty part of his shoulder, right at the base of his neck. So that was the where but why? 

Joseph lifted his head, and something in the back of Robert’s brain went rigid and then quailed in bloodcurdling fear. Joseph was smiling, all right, but looked too damn smug, too damn… something, and his mouth was smeared with dark, dark red like a toddler had tried to make him up with fuck-me lipstick with all the uncoordinated eagerness that phrase implied. 

Predatory, that’s what it was. Robert felt the fear twist into something more like anger and went to shove— But his wrists were pressed into the mattress, Joseph’s fingernails little sparks of discomfort against the backs of his hands. 

“You look so gorgeous like this—“ 

The kiss wasn’t unexpected, but it was, sharp metallic taste of it making Robert want desperately to be away from it. That was blood. _His_ blood on Joseph’s mouth like— fuck, fuckfuckfuck—

Robert kicked out. Joseph laughed and shoved his softening dick deeper, forcing a tiny, embarrassing noise out of Robert’s throat. Robert twisted against the feeling and kicked, and prayed. His heel found the back of Joseph’s calf, slammed down and Joseph yelped. It was enough to get a hand free and Robert shoved against Joseph’s face and—

It was a blur of move, ow ow move gottamove but he ended half off the bed, ass up and back twisted. Not at all comfortable, and winded and hurting from too many places to think of moving for a second.

Too long. 

“Sorry if I surprised you. Here, let me…” Joseph’s fingers curled loosely around one ankle as the other man slithered to the edge of the bed, hanging chest and shoulders over, planting a kiss at the back of Robert’s knee. Dark red smeared there. Nope. _Hell_ no. 

He kicked, fell, scrabbled at the floor to pull himself away from the bed on his belly. Didn’t make it more than a couple feet before his arms gave out underneath him. He was shaking. Had to look and make sure Joseph wasn’t following. 

Joseph looked confused, hurt, embarrassed. Bells again. “Robert, are you okay?” 

“You fucking bit me!” 

Joseph reared back like he’d been hit, lost, contrite (lies, lies, _lies!_ …right?) and doleful. “I … god, I’m sorry. I— I like to mark things and I wasn’t thinking.” 

Babbling and it was a lie, wasn’t it? It didn’t match with the look he’d worn, pulling Robert into that bloody kiss. Fucking hell, Robert could still taste the blood on his own teeth. He managed to sit without falling, groaning as his ass and elbow and shoulder sparked pain. Didn’t manage to make it past his knees without toppling sideways. 

“Th’hell were you thinking? Don’t give me bullshit—“ More important things. “Where’s your first aid kit?” 

Joseph stared at him, slack-jawed and blushing (or just flushed from the sex?). “I … don’t have one. Hey, listen. Come back up here and we’ll—“

“Fuck you.” Where was his shirt? Socks? Fuck. Standing was easier when he was fall-on-his-ass drunk. Robert felt like the world was tilted sideways, and he just wanted to lie down and (curl up on himself) rest. Okay, screw shirt and socks. And underwear for that matter. Pants and boots would be enough. He struggled with the zipper on his jacket. His shoulder was wailing a constant stream of burning agony punctuated with lightning stabs down deep each time he moved his arm or neck. 

“Robert, please don’t leave—“ Frantic, vulnerable, _desperate_. More lies. Maybe?

“Fuck. You.” Robert stumbled, doubling over when his shoulder hit the wall. Out. He needed out. Thank god they hadn’t left the marina. Just. Keep moving…

Just keep moving. Just keep moving… 

His door was a welcome sight, but hell if Robert remembered the trip there. Didn’t matter. Betsy ran in frantic circles around his feet, crying and whining in obvious distress, but if Robert stopped he knew he wouldn’t move again. Made it to the shower before standing became too much effort. That mattered. Turned on the cold, because hot… Yeah no, not after Joseph’s fever hot skin against his. Washed off sweat and blood and come while on his knees and his hands were still shaking. 

What? _Why?_ More importantly, _how?_ Joseph’s clueless eagerness looked a lot more sinister from his own shower stall, but was it malice and manipulation, or was Robert just too pissed from the bite to see straight? 

He owned his bad decisions. Hell, self-destructive was practically his middle name. So why did the back of his brain screech railroading at him now? Joseph had definitely ignored his protests about barebacking, and it was suspicious after the gloves for prepping his ass. That’d be enough to give Joseph the finger and not come back on its own, even if the rest of the night had been spun sugar perfection. (Robert liked to think that the guilt over betraying Mary would have kept it to one time… but he’d ignored the guilt _for_ the first offense so, maybe not so much.) But the rest of it could easily be explained away by Joseph being selfish and proud and too insecure of an alpha male to do anything but fuck somebody during sex. And _damn_ , Robert could actually believe that. But…

But he was too damn tired to try to figure it out now. Robert stumbled out of the shower stall, dripping and shivering, and fumbled open his first aid kit. The bite was still bleeding sluggishly, dark red beading up on his skin and threatening to undo the little good the shower had done. Robert could see torn skin and bruising, count the goddamned tooth marks. Human teeth were pretty dull, and they tore more than cut or pierced, but there were two puncture marks. Deep ones. And two to match on the other side when he twisted to get a better look in the mirror. What the hell?

It was also swollen up like a cat scratch, and that never said good things. The area around it was hot and tender too, flushed an angry red. The best he could do was pat it dry, slather on as much antiseptic as he could and tape it up with gauze. Hospital was not happening tonight. 

Neither was getting upstairs to his bed, but the sink arrested him on the way to the couch. Water wouldn’t stop the hangover now, but it wouldn’t hurt either. 

Two lukewarm glasses later, Robert couldn’t remember if he’d locked the front door, but checking suddenly was a herculean effort, and he didn’t even care that he was gonna crash naked on his own couch. Besty slunk out from under a chair and whined and pawed at him until he let her up to burrow under his chin. Good dog. 

“I’m such a goddamned fool, Betsy.” He was going to take the whining and nosing at the bandage as confirmation. God, he was so tired…

Betsy barking woke him up, god knows when. After sunrise sometime was as far as he could narrow it down, because the light was hurting his eyes and his head was pounding and his stomach was trying to rebel, and he hurt all over, especially the bite mark on his shoulder. 

Mary was standing above him, hand over her mouth and actual tears in her eyes. Shit. Damn. _Fuck_. He’d done this to her. 

“Asshole! Idiot! Dumbass! You stupid, worthless, spineless man! I warned you! I told you, you damn fool. I told you and you didn’t listen and now you’ll never get away.” 

All Robert could do was groan. Getting up was too much, so he put his arm over his face to block the painful light. “‘m sorry. I didn’t— Tha’s a lie. I knew and did it anyway, ‘cause I gotta destroy the good things. Don’ deserve ‘m.” 

Mary stamped her foot. The heel broke, the carpet got a tear gouged into it. She threw it at his head. Missed. Betsy obligingly brought it back to her with a generous portion of slobber.

Robert turned his head away and fingers closed around his wrist like a vise. When he looked, Mary was looming over him, hurt and furious and… afraid? 

“You don’t get to self-destruct, you hear me?” She hissed. “You don’t get to die! You won’t let this ruin you. Promise me! Promise!”

“I…” Robert tried to pull his wrist away, weakly. “I can’t promise that.” 

Mary’s fingers dug into the back of his skull and her palms were scalding on his cheeks. She was as fever hot as Joseph was, and for some reason that never clicked before. Robert had the choice of struggling against the pull and probably lose his whole head, or come up off the couch. Mary put her forehead against his, and her teeth were bared. She never smiled with an open mouth; Robert couldn’t remember having ever seen her teeth before. Her canines were big, sharp and Robert had a flash of Joseph’s bite all of a sudden. 

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you _dare_ give up and leave me alone with him!” 

Mary backed up but she was still holding Robert’s head, so helplessly he shuffled and tried to keep up. She didn’t let go until she’d plopped his bare ass down at his kitchen table. She slammed a glass down in front of him a minute later. 

God yes, he needed a drink. Thank god for Mar— “Water?” 

Mary crossed her arms. “Get chugging, big boy. This is going to be a battle against dehydration.”

Robert just… he stared. Mary rolled her eyes. “I was a nurse, you know. Before…” She waved her hand vaguely. “Before everything. I met Joseph when Chris and the twins’ mother stabbed him five times.” 

That was new. That was new and different, and Robert had no idea if she was bullshitting or not. “Because he was a cheating son of a bitch?” 

Mary practically collapsed in the chair across from him and nudged the glass of water back into his hands. “If you believe Joseph, they grew up together in a commune, and when he realized there was some seriously shady bullshit going on, he made a daring escape with her and the kids, but she didn’t want to leave and stabbed him to make sure she got to go back.” 

She leaned back and helped herself to his bottle of jack that never left the table, doing an impressive show of downing half of it straight from the bottle. “The cops believed him, and I did too, back then.” 

There was clearly no arguing with her about the water, and it would help the headache, so he raised his glass to her in a salute and downed it. “And then you married him.” 

Mary pulled the collar of her sweater aside. She never wore anything that showed off her neck, and with a sickening lurch, Robert suddenly knew why. That was a fucking bite mark, scabbed over and half-healed on her neck, and older, silvery scars. The asshole liked to mark people, huh? 

She laughed, low and hollow, letting the collar snap back tight to her neck. “You won’t be the last idiot he’ll do this to, not by a long shot. You’re just the most recent. I’m not the first one he did this to; I’m just the dumbass that made him put a ring on it first.”

As soon as the water was gone, Mary filled the glass again. Robert didn’t argue, but raised an eyebrow. “I appreciate the dedication to removing my hangover, but why?” 

Mary scowled. “You’re gonna get really sick, but you’ll live because I won’t let you leave me behind. After that… Everything will change. Keep drinking.” 

The set of her jaw told Robert everything he needed to know about her willingness to answer more questions, so he saluted with his glass again and drank.


	2. Chapter 2

Mary couldn’t stay forever, so he was left to his own devices with dire warnings to keep drinking water and only water until he couldn’t anymore, whatever that meant. All he wanted to do was reach for something stronger, but something about the way Mary was acting made him keep at the water. 

By evening he was pretty sure he’d pissed most of it right back out, and somehow his hangover had gotten _worse_. Or maybe it was withdrawal by now. He ached everywhere, couldn’t stop sweating, and the reflection in his bathroom mirror was flushed and glassy-eyed. When Robert dug out the ancient thermometer he’d probably last used when Val was a kid, sure enough he had a fever. What was the really bad number for that? 104? 105? Robert wasn’t sure, but he was scarily close, whatever it was. Aspirin would help that, right?

The only thing that he couldn’t pass off as withdrawal was the way his whole shoulder was swollen now, a blistering shade of red even against the flush over the rest of him. Even gauze, even his most threadbare old t-shirt, hurt too much against the swelling, so he’d said screw it. Only, doing that made it so easy to see how it was still spreading. What the hell had Joseph had in his mouth?

Maybe… Maybe he should do the hospital. 

Just as he was considering putting on a pair of pants and a shirt over his boxers, Mary walked through the door, dragging a whole bunch of shit, including things that looked like they might have been lifted from a hospital. 

She shrugged unselfconsciously at his gaping mouthed look. “Stole it from the shelter; I’ll raid our bank account to pay them back later. Started puking your guts out yet?” 

Robert shook his head, because usual hungover nausea aside, he hadn’t actually— Oh. Shit. Bathroom. As he ran for it, he heard Mary sigh heavily. “Right on time.” 

He heaved until nothing was coming up, and then heaved some more for good measure, and made an unholy mess on the tile, even with trying to keep everything coming out confined to the toilet. He hadn’t been this sick in— He didn’t think he’d ever been this sick, even when he’d gotten that bout of food poisoning that left him in the hospital just out of high school. 

When he was gasping during what might be a lull, because somehow he knew this wasn’t over, Mary came in and shoved-dragged him into the shower stall. “Stay.” 

She turned the water as cold as it could go and starting cleaning up the mess without a word. When his guts decided to start rebelling again, Mary patted him on the shoulder and disappeared. Robert was shaking and weak-kneed when things calmed down, and decided that rinsing off again wasn’t a bad idea, since the shower was still running. He was bare ass naked again, somehow, but the only thing that mattered was not choking on his own vomit. 

He needed to lie down, and not on the again filthy tile, so out into the living room he wobbled. Where was Betsy? 

Why the hell was there an inflatable kiddy pool with ice floating in it on top of a tarp on his living room floor? 

Mary looked up from the clear bag she was stringing up on the freestanding coat rack Val had made in shop class one year. So ambitious; he’d been so damn proud but never said a word to her about it. Dammit, why was he even thinking about Val right now?

“Get in. Don’t worry about Betsy; I made sure Damian took her to the shelter. You won’t be able to take care of her for a couple weeks and I can’t…” 

“I appreciate it.” Robert couldn’t believe how rough he sounded. “And I appreciate the nursing but, uh… hospital?” 

Mary gave him a steely-eyed look as she snapped some gloves on and pulled what looked like a needle out of one of those little sterile packages. “Do you want Val and your father to come flying all the way out here to comfort you on your deathbed and hear how you got this way because you fucked your only friend’s husband?”

Shit. Dammit. “I’m never going to be able to make this up to you.” It was supposed to be a question but in the end he didn’t need to ask, did he? “How… What’s the chances of me kicking the bucket?” 

“You’ll make this up to me by not leaving me.” Mary yanked his arm over and started swiping over it with alcohol wipes. “You’re not allowed to die; I won’t stand for it.” 

Robert felt like shit, and fear sat heavy in his stomach, making the pain jump up a notch. “Mary—“ 

“Two of the ones I know about… didn’t make it past the fever. One from massive cardio-respiratory failure even with everything we could do for him in the hospital, and the other ended up a vegetable after the fever cooked his brain inside his skull. His family pulled the plug just in time.” Her voice was flat, tight, and Robert almost missed the sting of the needle. 

She followed up by shoving him towards the pool. “You won’t keep pills down long enough, and IV fever reducers weren’t something I could grab, so ice baths it is.” 

The ice bath didn’t feel bad, and Mary settled on the floor, running her fingers through his hair. It would have been actually good, if it wasn’t for his guts expelling everything he’d ever eaten. They fell into a routine of checking his still rising temperature, spats of being violently sick over everything, and cleaning and refilling the pool. 

Time became kind of elastic, soft and uncertain, but at some point Robert noticed that she should be home with the kids and Joseph. Should have been so long ago. “What about the kids?” 

Just getting that out took everything out of him, and Mary pressed something cool to his forehead. …Her hand. Her hand was cool. 

“Joseph knows what he did and why I am where I am now. I’m not going to leave you to die. He’ll just have to step up and take care of them.” 

“He knew this—“ Getting to the bucket Mary had set up was too much right now, so Robert settled for just getting his head over the side. What came up was dark orangey pink and foamy. Shit. 

“He _wanted_ this.” Mary's voice was matter-of-fact

Fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting a finished chapter whenever I finish one in the ongoing portion, or once a week, whichever is sooner. Two chapters today.

At some point, Robert must have passed out. He remembered being in the icy pool, but he woke up dry, and under a sheet on the tarp, mouth like a desert, and feeling like he’d been run over by a truck. Repeatedly, for at least a week. 

It took two tries to croak out “Mary?” and he sounded so weak when he did. All of a sudden he was being picked up, hugged, and Mary’s voice in his ear. 

“Thank god. You’re awake.” A second later she got an arm under his shoulder, and there was a minute sting from his arm. “You also stink. Shower.” 

Robert tried to stand, but his trembling legs wouldn’t hold him. Somehow Mary got him to the shower with one arm around his waist, and her other hauling his arms over her shoulders. The water was lukewarm but felt kinda good. She was getting soaked in her clothes, but grinning open-mouthed as she scrubbed shampoo through his hair and flicked it in his eyes. 

At another time this would have been material to jack off to but Robert didn’t even care right now. Dick must be taking a nap. After getting clean and nearly braining himself on the wall, Mary set him on the closed toilet with a mutter about food. 

A part of Robert revolted, because vomiting up everything he’d ever eaten was a very fresh memory, but at the same time his stomach rumbled at the thought. Maybe he could eat. 

A pair of old sweats already folded on the back of toilet was easy enough to get on, and Robert didn’t give a damn if he was still wet. But a look in the mirror almost made him collapse. That was a damn beard, at least a week’s growth, and the bite on his neck was nicely scabbed over with no swelling at all. The hell? 

Mary would know, so Robert leaned against the wall and made a painstakingly slow journey out. The last few steps was more of a controlled fall than walking but he ended up at the table, breathing hard and shaking. Shit. 

A plate with eggs, obviously microwaved bacon and a goddamned steak cut into bite-sized pieces was put in front of him. Robert looked up, meaning to thank her but she… was still damp and in one of his shirts with nothing else. His dick would have been hard in a second any other time but he was too damn tired to do more than stare for a minute. 

She shrugged at him. “Your pants kept falling off and I wasn’t going digging for a belt. _Eat_.”

This was awkward, so he gestured at the cut up steak. “A little much, isn’t it? I definitely own knives, you know.” 

A huff, and she grabbed for a bottle. Wine, unopened. God, he could use a drink. “Think you’d trust your fingers with a knife in hand right now?” 

Robert had to admit she was right so he shrugged and took a bite. “Good steak. ‘d go with the wine.” 

“Not for you ’til you get your strength back up.” Damn she was drinking straight from the bottle. Mary usually used a glass, even if she finished it in record time. “Momma missed you.”

“Shit, you didn’t drink…? Uh, how long was I out?” Because he had a damn beard, short and scruffy as it was. 

Mary picked up another steak that was way rare with just her fingers and tore a bite out of it. “Actually out? Because I’d bet you don’t remember most of it. It’s been almost two weeks since you fucked my husband. I wasn’t gonna let my need for a drink take you away from me.” 

Robert chewed thoughtfully on the steak for a bit, then the bacon. Good shit and he didn’t feel like it was gonna make a reappearance anytime soon. Rude of Mary to drink in front of him when he was jonesing hard for one. No wonder. Almost two weeks! Damn. “Is it… over?” 

Mary’s expression was bleak and her laugh cut like glass. “Oh Robbie-boy, it’s _never_ over. Welcome to Maple Bay’s best kept secret. You can check out any time you like but you can never leave~”

Any other time Robert would have laughed, or sang along, but he was pretty sure he’d barely cheated death, just from how he felt. “Still out of the loop, here.” 

Her smile showed off her teeth, her too sharp and big to be normal teeth. She’d been smiling like that an awful lot since… “You hunting cryptids and we were right under your nose the whole damn time. Hope you like howling at the moon.”

“What the hell.”

* * *

Robert didn’t believe it. He just couldn’t get his head around it. Eventually Mary sighed heavily, pulled her wet clothes back on, and left him to his own devices with a warning to stay away from the sauce until he’d put the weight he’d lost back on. Robert made it two days, which he guessed was the longest he’d ever done it while conscious since… Not thinking about that. 

Not thinking about what Mary said either. Werewolves were bullshit like the rest right? He hunted because it was an escape from his own terrible life to pretend, not because he _really_ believed. (So this was the “denial” stage, huh?) But he couldn’t deny that what she’d said about needing meat seemed to be right, and he was hungry all the damn time. He even ended up cleaning the damn house, because of all the crumbs and empty containers and unwashed clothes that he’d never had the pressing need to take care of because why bother? _stank_ now, in a way he’d never noticed before. Taking out his trash turned from a ‘whenever Mary started refusing to come over because of the smell’ to a regular weekly thing. He almost quit smoking because of the smell. Almost. The need for cigarettes ended up overpowering the smell, but he noticed he’d cut down from two packs a day to about half of one, going as long as he could stand between and regularly dumping his ashtrays. 

The second trash day, Damien was out putting his trash cans at the end of the drive when Robert dragged the third bag—mostly cans and bottles that he just didn’t have the damn energy to haul to bottle reclaim—out. Damien gave him a smile, and Robert just didn’t know what to do with that. “Oh it’s so delightful to see you turning things around at last, dear neighbor. Mary does fret about you so. If you ever need any assistance at all, don’t hesitate to call on me in the evenings.” 

Robert just. Nope. What the hell was he supposed to say back? The weird man (weirdly kind) didn’t know him. Robert sure as hell didn’t know how to be kind back. Pretty sure that trying to fuck him was out (didn’t really want to hate Damian when Mary liked him so much). 

When he stomped back inside, feeling like his chest had been pried open and hollowed out, Robert texted Mary for probably the fifteenth time that morning. Hell if he knew why he was so tense and restless if she wasn’t there, but even alcohol wasn’t helping. He’d been just fine alone (more lying to himself, but he was so good at it) before now, so why was he so desperately lonely all of a sudden (it was more than just loneliness, the back of his brain hissed at him)? He’d even called his Pappy two nights ago. What a disaster that conversation had been. They’d had had nothing to talk about since well before he’d married Marilyn and all Robert could do was dumbly inquire about health and feel weirdly desperate to hear his Pappy’s voice for the first time in… ever? Damn long time. He’d even dialed _Val’s_ number last night, but come to his senses before it rang the second time. 

Robert pulled open the cupboard where he kept the strong shit for emergencies. This counted. He just needed a drink, that’s all. …Several drinks. He’d get nice and sloshed and cry over old romance flicks with Betsy on his lap and it’d cure him of whatever this scratching need for company inside his skull was. That settled it! 

Maybe bring out the fourth bottle, just in case.


	4. Chapter 4

He was sobbing. Why was he sobbing? His mouth tasted awful. What? Noise… TV? Where was the remote? Why did his throat hurt? Breathing was— Right. Sobbing. Why was he so sad? Robert couldn’t remember and everything was swimming. 

Why? Oh. Okay. Coming down from a real bender but hangover hadn’t set in yet. Robert tried to think, but everything was hazy. He didn’t remember anything after getting the fourth bottle. He’d feel better if he had another drink. Yeah. Just what he n—

His hand was stuck, what—

More noise. Ugh. Didn’t wanna. Thinking made him sad. Yeah, sounded right. Thinking was the enemy. Needed that drink…

“Shhh. Shhh. Mary will get you some water. I’m going to take such good care of you.” Laughter. “Oh, you had me so worried you wouldn’t come home after that silly stunt you pulled, but now that you’re here, you never have to leave. I promise. We’re going to be so happy together.” 

Something about the words cut through the haze. Robert groaned. It turned into a hiccup, and then half a sob. His face was wet and cold and he couldn’t move his hand. Either hand. One was stuck underneath something hard but not too hard and kind of silky and the other…

Somebody had hold of his wrist. Somebody had his wrist and the talking wasn’t the TV and where was he? 

“I hate you. I hate you both.” Mary? Mary! 

Robert struggled to open his eyes and turned away from what he’d had his face pressed against. There was something pushing him down. Fingers in his hair. Light hurt but… Mary was upset? Was that why he’d been…

“Thank you so much, dear. And don’t say that; you’re just so stressed right now. It’ll all get so much better when Robert can start contributing to our family.”

That voice. Joseph? That bast— In his struggle to get up, get away from what he was now realizing was the arms around him (Joseph’s arms felt so _good_ there, and not in a sex way. His dick wasn’t even a little hard and the usual crawling _want_ wasn’t trying to make it so in spite of the whiskey.) Robert managed to peel his eyes all the way open and get enough of a look around to realize… Mary’s house, Mary and Joseph’s bed. How the hell—?

Joseph was shushing him, gentle, unmovable and all Robert could do was blearily follow the command of “small sips” when the glass was put against his mouth. 

When the glass was finally empty, Joseph tugged, and Robert ended up on his feet. Hell if he knew how. Everything was swimming, and he fell—would have fallen, but Joseph scooped him up and Robert’s head ended up on the other man’s shoulder. God damn it all, he was still fall-on-his-ass drunk, wasn’t he? 

There were lips against his temple, cheek, neck… A wordless hurt sound from Mary. Robert’s attempt to pull away only resulted in nearly toppling over backwards and Joseph’s arm wrapping like a vise around his lower back, pulling him back in close. It felt so good. Why did it feel so good? 

They were moving, and tile was cold against his feet. What? Where were his shoes? Then a hand pushed against his hip, worming under clothes, and he ended up yelping as his tailbone banged against some kind of sharp corner when he tried to get away again. Bathroom, they were in the bathroom. 

Joseph sighed, heavy and disappointed. “If you think you can stand on your own… but you are so very drunk, and I’d rather not have any, ahem, _accidents_.” 

“Fuck you.”

But his head was still swimming and he ended up in Joseph’s arms again when he tried. Robert had to admit that he had really needed to piss, but _damn_ , needing the help left the back of his neck burning and stomach recoiling from the shame of it. And Joseph was being so disgustingly saccharine about it. 

Or maybe his stomach was recoiling from the whiskey. Robert vaguely heard a disgusted sound from Joseph and Mary snapping something, and then the hand rubbing his back was definitely too small to be Joseph’s. The fact that it was skin on skin was… worrying but vomiting took too much attention. When everything that was gonna come up, had, Robert did feel a little less completely smashed and way more hungover. Way too soon if he was right about how much he’d had to have gone through to be blackout drunk. And too soon to be walking anywhere more than a couple steps to the sink. When Mary put another glass of water and some pills into his hands Robert accepted it gratefully. That was more than the usual amount of pills though. 

He grunted out something that was supposed to be a question. Mary was a peach and laughed bitterly in his face but answered what he meant to ask.

“Noticed it doesn’t take you as long to get smashed, yet? It’ll take a little more to hit you, but you’ll burn it through your system two or three times as fast as a normal person and same for any other kind of drug. Little slower if you really overdo it like you did today or take a bigger dose of meds. And hangovers and crashes will be way worse. Sorry buddy, but your night is gonna really suck.”

She wordlessly handed him a worn toothbrush that Robert would bet was hers. Toothpaste and a good brushing helped the awful taste in his mouth at least, and another glass of water made his head clearer. “How did I end up in Joseph’s sleep pants?” 

Mary groaned. “We can’t ever leave, remember? You came over drunker than a skunk and almost beat down our door, begging for us. Mostly me.” Her little smile was viciously satisfied, but fell quickly. “Then Joseph brought you upstairs to clean you off while you clung to him like a child. I learned the hard way that werewolves can’t be alone; it hurts too much. Drives us crazy. And our… wolves know who our _alpha_ is and will do anything to be near him. And of course you had plenty of issues with being alone and with family even before all this, don’t you, Smalls?” 

Mary spit out alpha like it was poison, shuddering and curling her arms around her chest. She was just in an overlarge t-shirt and the action pulled the hem up around her thighs and pulled the rest tight over her breasts. Robert’s dick didn’t so much as twitch, but he wanted so desperately to be close to her. She looked so brittle, like she’d break if he touched her. 

The reference to his family and how he’d screwed it up, even that damn indirect, made Robert flinch. Making light of it was the only option. “You know it, sweetheart. I’ve got the whole damn library of that publication. So what you’re saying is I’m screwed?” 

The werewolf thing… Robert still didn’t know what the hell to make of it, but he _was_ sure Mary wasn’t trying to pull one over on him. He hadn’t felt…wolfy, he didn’t think? 

Mary barked out a loud laugh. “He’s going to want to fuck you in the morning, and do you really think you could stay off the sauce even if you managed to keep yourself going out the door when he tells you to come back? Just… stay. It’ll be like taking a hit; maybe you’ll get another couple weeks out of staying away once you go home tomorrow. I told him to go get the kids for a family night; they’ll probably make him think twice about the fucking, at least.” 

She was so resigned and shit, shit, shit— All Robert could do in his current half-drunk, half-hungover state was hug her. She shuddered, and her nails dug into his shoulder blades but that was okay. Like hell was Robert going to let Joseph have his way. Like _hell_. 

“Dad should punish both of you.” 

Robert could see the eldest glaring at him when he glanced up from Mary. “Fuck you, Chris.” 

He could feel the little puff of air against his shoulder and the tiny shudder. Mary was amused anyway. 

“Robert, please! Not around the children.” Seeing Joseph sweep into the room with the baby in his arms and the twins trailing like little ducklings made Robert’s gut twist. Joseph’s tone was so mild, in spite of the admonishment. 

Mary disengaged and took the baby away, snatched like lightning out of Joseph’s arms. She ended up sitting on the bed, only messy part of the perfect room, and rocking the little boy back and forth. She didn’t look at Joseph even once. 

Joseph’s expression went hurt (…lie?), but he covered it up with a bright smile a second later, something dull flickering down to hide the emotion in his eyes. He held both hands out to Robert, gesturing. 

“Come on. Don’t be shy there. You get your first family night already; isn’t that exciting?” 

Robert was glad he was steadier, but yeah, damn, making it down stairs was asking for a broken neck. Mary was looking at him, nodding shallowly. Damn. Dammit. _Screw it_. 

It was like a dream, or a nightmare, getting pulled into the giant bed. Robert ended up pressed full length against Joseph under the thin sheets. Joseph kissed his forehead, and then his cheek because Robert wasn’t going to let the move to kiss his lips go unchallenged and twisted his head away. He wanted to be near Mary, but he was pretty sure Joseph knew that too and had purposefully pulled him to the other side. 

Then Christie jumped on them both and burrowed between Robert and Joseph, and Robert just froze, not sure how to take this child suddenly so close. She was giggling and kissed Joseph’s cheeks, wrapping her hands around his neck. His expression went so soft. Joseph loved his kids, Robert knew that, but _seeing_ it so close…

“We should do family nights more, Daddy. ‘m glad you came, Mr. Robert.” 

She was smiling at him and kissed his cheek, so trusting, so… Fuck. What did he do? 

Mary popped up over Joseph’s shoulder, the baby balanced against her own shoulder, apparently already asleep. “What about Mommy, honey? Why don’t you come cuddle with me and your brothers?” 

She was smiling, and it _looked_ as soft as Joseph’s but there was something wary sparking in her eyes. Robert wanted to ask, but there was no way, not now. Christie didn’t seem to notice, clambering over Joseph and kissing Mary and Crish on the cheek before apparently settling in. 

He was already feeling a sick twist of guilt about letting Joseph wrap arms around him and throw a leg over his hip. God, it felt so… good. Like he belonged, and wasn’t that pathetic? 

There was another dip behind him, but no contact. Must be Chris, but Robert was too tired to feel nervous about the sullen boy at his back. 

Just as he was on the edge of sleep, he heard a hissed whisper. “Dad better put you in your place soon.” 

Robert was dazedly trying to figure what that meant when sleep claimed him fully.


	5. Chapter 5

Robert felt warm, and for the first time in a long time, pretty damn well rested. The hangover was a distant thrum, feeling more like the tail end of one than the beginning, and he was vaguely aware of someone with him. For a few hazy seconds he had pleasant thoughts of reaching out and tucking Mary close, whispering something ridiculous into her hair to get her to laugh and then maybe…

There was a dick hot and hard against his hip and a low, rumbling groan near his ear. That was enough to poor cold water on his little half-dreaming fantasy. 

Joseph. Mary’s warning came back to him and his dick perked in decided interest. Fucking traitor. But Robert was also aware of the sound of a baby sleepily fussing, and two, maybe three other rhythmic inhales and exhales nearby. Mary was awake, Robert was sure. Joseph was t—

Robert found himself flipped fully to his back and couldn’t bite back the gasp. Joseph looked down at him, full of muzzy fondness and a heaping dose of lust. His half-lidded eyes concealed blown-wide pupils swallowing up the blue, and his mouth was moist and just a little open, like he’d just licked it. The swallow followed by a long, slow sigh drew Robert’s attention to the bob and flex of tendon and muscle in Joseph’s throat. That was hot. Why was it so goddamned hot? 

The good morning was soft and savored, and his name was murmured against his neck in a way that urged the part of his brain that was _always_ on board with bad decisions to just… give in. Robert shifted beneath Joseph’s weight, not sure if he was trying to escape or trying to get more comfortable. Joseph huffed something happily that might have been encouragement and—

It was a nip against the half-healed mark, not full on sinking of teeth into him like last time, but it was enough to send Robert back there for a moment, and after everything… He didn’t think he needed to be embarrassed about the small, scared noise that clawed out of his throat. 

For a second he couldn’t even move, choking on his own protest, and then Robert was definitely trying to escape. Joseph was so heavy for a man who looked so trim, and then a hand clamped like a steel trap on his bicep. Joseph was shushing him again, sweet apology and a promise to be gentle breathed along his cheek and it was probably luck that Robert got his head jerked away from what would have been a deep kiss. Joseph tongued the skin under his ear instead, and it felt so good and— Dammit. 

Mary was curled on her side around the baby, letting him tug on her hair, and she mouthed ‘sorry’ at him when his jerk away from the kiss let their eyes meet. 

He _had_ to stop this. “Jo—“ 

Christie popped her head up from where she must have been curled against Mary’s back, giggling and clapping her hands. “Daddy, are you gonna put a baby in Mr. Robert? I wanna have a little sister!” 

Joseph froze, and then sat up, laughing and scrubbing a hand through his tousled hair. He looked both embarrassed and oddly charmed. “Ah… sweetie…”

“Don’t be dumb, Christie. Boys can’t have babies.” 

Chris’s sulky tone was a complete surprise, and Robert’s brief feeling of relief was quickly replaced with discomfort as his skin started crawling. Children should not have that kind of smirk on their faces. 

“Dad’s just putting him in his place, right, Dad? Make him take a fucking and submit like a good dog.” 

That was when a chorus of protest went up. The ones that stood out the most were Joseph’s “Language, young man!” and Christie’s “Don’t be so mean. Daddy, what’s fucking?” 

Chris reeled back from the admonishments, scowling. “You can’t tell me what to do, Dad! You’re not my real alpha. I wanna go home to my real Mom!” 

The door slammed a second later, as the kid stormed out of the room. Robert didn’t know whether to be grateful for the interruptions or unnerved, but mood definitely broken, and Joseph didn’t protest when he made excuses and retreated to the bathroom.

* * *

“Robert.” 

Damn, so much for sneaking out while Joseph was giving a talking to to Chris. Robert let the back door fall closed again, resisting the urge to lean against it. “Gotta go take care of my dog, Joseph. I can’t stay. Don’t have any clean clothes anyway.” 

The urge to lash out curled his mouth into a mean smile. “Unless you’re really wanting to keep me barefoot and pregnant in your kitchen.” 

Joseph flinched, and Robert just had to push, managing to bring the nasty turn to his expression back down to deadpan. “I’m really sorry, but it won’t work out. I’m barren. The doctors had to take it all out after my daughter—“ 

The hurt scowl was satisfying and made him feel guilty at the same time. Damn conscience. Then Joseph shook his head and fingers clamped around Robert’s wrist. 

“That’s… kind of what I needed to talk to you about. It won’t take long.” 

Robert really wanted to scram, or yell, but Mary and the kids were in the kitchen right through the doorway and… And he was full of bullshit. Mary had been right about not being able to leave if Joseph called him back. 

Christie waved at him happily from her bowl of cereal while Christian just stared, a little too blank for comfort. Mary was spooning something that probably tasted as shitty as it looked into the baby’s waiting mouth and she didn’t look up as Joseph dragged Robert through the kitchen, but Robert saw her shoulders bunch up. Damn. 

He found himself plopped down on the couch, some kind of toy digging into one hip, and Joseph suddenly had both of Robert’s hands grabbed, making a clumsy attempt at winding their fingers together before just settling for holding them. 

“I… about what Chris said. I _need_ you to know I’m not like that. When I left, I promised myself that I would be a more understanding alpha than mine was. I would never force you to respect my authority with sex. _Never_. We’re a family, not— We’re a _family._ ” Joseph was looking him right in the eye, and Robert wanted desperately to call bullshit, but this time he didn’t feel lied to, couldn’t even spot any careful spin. 

Joseph continued in a rush, looking like someone had kicked his puppy. “And this morning, I’m sorry. I should have made sure you were up to it first. You’re probably still hung over and tired from the bite and Robert, you’re looking so _thin_. You really need to eat more or the moon will rip you apart. Mary never eats enough and it’s always rough on her.” 

“Definitely didn’t want you touching me this morning. Your damn kids were right there! Your—“ Robert cut himself off before he got any louder. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted the kids to overhear. 

Joseph’s look of confusion would have been adorable if the whole conversation wasn’t rubbing Robert’s nerves raw. “But you smelled—“ 

“Look, Christiansen—“ Robert couldn’t really deny that part of him had wanted it. “My dick is onboard with anything sex related. It’s one of my bad points. But just because my libido doesn’t have a fucking lick of sense doesn’t mean _I_ want to. I made the bad decision to let my dick take lead that night on your yacht, because I’m a sad sack of self-sabotage, and I don’t want to make that bad decision again. You’re a destructive habit in the making and I’ve got more than enough of those. So I’m cutting it off now.” 

Well, now that was a surprise. Robert hadn’t expected to make it through without (taking it back and letting Joseph have his way) getting shoved back onto the couch and… he probably would have given in. Struggled one hell of a lot before saying no, at least. Because a part of him did want it, or at least wanted Joseph’s company, and. Fuck. Probably only a matter of time before he needed another hit, as Mary had put it.

Joseph looked shattered, hurt and guilty and— Robert was starting to think his desperation, his wanting wasn’t a lie after all. The man had some serious issues with ignoring protests (the barebacking thing was still stuck in his craw) and if Mary was any indication, more than a little willful obliviousness to how happy or unhappy the people around him were but… Maybe it hadn’t been a con. Maybe Joseph had really meant all those things he’d been saying. Sure as hell seemed like he was trying for some kind of, what, threesome thing? Obviously didn’t care if Mary knew at least. 

“I… understand.” Joseph didn’t sound too sure of that but his head was bowed, voice low and cracking. “If you don’t want it, I won’t… I hope you change your mind.” He looked up, licked his lips and then sighed, fingers tightening around Robert’s hands. “But please don’t stay away because of that. We’re family now; we need to support each other.” 

That just… Robert felt like he was boiling. “Who decides that, you?” 

He got a nod. And—

Dammit. “Let’s just assume for a minute that this werewolf shit is on the level. You knew that biting me would change me didn’t you?” When Joseph opened his mouth and took a breath like he was about to launch on something long, Robert snapped, “Just yes or no.” 

“Yes.” 

“You _planned_ to bite me that night.” 

“Yes.” 

“You ask Mary if she was okay with you biting me? What about your kids?” 

“No, but—“ 

“Just yes or no, Joseph,” Robert felt like he was caged, wanted to move, and snarled at the feeling. Or maybe just all of this. “That whole deal with seducing me and getting me to come to your yacht was all about biting me, wasn’t it? The sex was just bait.” 

“Not—“ Joseph shuddered. “Not exactly. I wanted to make love to you. I still want to, again, I mean, and… ‘So they are no longer two, but one flesh.’ It’s so much better, easier, when there’s making love too.” 

“Making love?” Robert couldn’t help the disbelieving laugh. “That wasn’t— It’s not _love_ if you’re lying. And you were, Mr. picture perfect youth minister. No asking, no warnings. You outright ignored me when I was trying to tell you I didn’t want barebacking. You waved that fucking divorce paperwork in front of my face, knowing damn well you weren’t splitting up with Mary. No, _don’t_. I don’t wanna hear it! Did you even think for a second that I might not _want_ you to fucking bite me?” 

“You …” Joseph looked almost like he might cry, and so confused. It hurt, dammit. “Why wouldn’t you want it? It’s so much better. We’re stronger, faster, healthier. After the moon your senses will fully awaken and it’ll be like stepping into a whole new world. It’s _wonderful_ ; we're so blessed. I just wanted to share that with you.” 

“You didn’t _ask_. You didn’t give me a chance to make a damn decision! You took that away from me, asshole! I don’t know what I would’ve done if you had, but fuck it, I should’ve had a chance to say no. You were afraid I would, weren’t you? So you didn’t let me. That’s just as terrible as going ahead and doing it after a no. Fuck you, Joseph. Fuck. You.” 

And with that, Robert stormed out the front door with a dark satisfaction in slamming it behind him so hard it rattled, and out into mid-morning sunlight and to the stares of the neighbors. Shit. 

He made it inside his own house before finding tears in his eyes, and he ended up sliding down the wall next to the door, feeling the catch in his chest and throat with every breath. Damn. Damn. _Fuck._

Betsy crawled into his lap, whining, and he hugged her. “Good girl. Sorry I wasn’t around last night. Not gonna do that again.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Craig shows up in this one, although I'm not tagging him because he's very minor in this story. (Although I could write him or the other dads in more, if readers are interested in the interactions.) 
> 
> Also, if anyone has very strong preferences for how Dadsona is named/handled, now's the time to speak up. I don't have any strong preferences, and at the moment I'm keeping things as vague as possible, but he needs a fun name, at the least. :Dd

Robert lasted about a day until the restless almost paranoia got claws into him far enough that he was begging Mary to come out drinking with him just for some company. Being with her soothed that enough that he didn’t go crawling back to Joseph, but for the first night, there was nothing but awkwardness between them. Robert missed the easy drunken camaraderie and the next night he tried to fix it. Led to a shouting match in Irish I Were Drinking. Mary screamed at him for sleeping with her husband and ignoring her warning, and a few smaller things that all added up to Robert being a self-destructive idiot. Robert snarled back at her for staying with the asshole (not sleeping with Robert himself), for not telling him sooner, and for saving his life. She was going on a rant about how he wasn’t allowed to check out and leave her when they were both kicked out and banned for six months. 

It was easier when they got back to his place. With everything out in the open, the festering discomfort eased. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. Mary muttered something about lancing the wound as she curled up tight against his side on his couch. They were passing one of her favorite vintages back and forth between them, still in the bottle.

Robert still couldn’t believe he’d actually stumbled on it, and it seemed unreal, but he admitted that he needed to be prepared for being a werewolf because it was definitely true at this point. Mary wouldn’t pull a long con on him like this. “So the full moon is coming up; I’m not gonna go on a wild rampage and attack the innocent people of Maple Bay, am I?”

Mary laughed. “You’ll remember who you are, but… Your wolf will wake up. You’ll be _starving_ , and want to chase things and claim an area for yourself and… Basically you’ll be you, but wolf-you. And it won’t go away once you’re human again. After the first moon, you’ll always be wolf-you, forever. It’s kind of like being a little drunk, ‘cause it’ll be hard to remember why you shouldn’t chase or pounce on something, or just take somebody’s hamburger away because you’re hungry and there’s no way they can take you in a fight, or want to kick strangers that come to your door in the balls. And god, I always want to chew on things. Or people, if I’m feeling playful, or stressed, or pretty much anything at all.” 

“That why you’re always going after those young things? Thrill of the chase?” 

“It’d be better if they’d actually _run_.” Mary said that with a little pout, and then they both laughed. 

But the biting comment reminded him badly of Joseph. “So if I bite somebody… they become werewolves?” 

“You gotta draw blood, but yeah. Chris got into a fight at school and bit the other kid, but no blood, and nothing ever happened.”

And he’d always liked biting, and being bitten (and maybe if Joseph had warned him or been more gentle…), and the hickies left behind and— No sex of any kind for him for a while then. Robert wasn’t going to do this to anyone else. And changing the subject! “What else should I know about the full moon?” 

“If you think being alone sucks now, it’s going to be so much worse then. But as long as you bring some meat, you should be fine. It hurts like hell, but you’ll feel really good after. It feels like taking E, especially once you go back to human in the morning. Oh, and your clothes will be ruined if you’re wearing them, so go find a quiet place to strip and wait in the late afternoon. Joseph can last for almost an hour after moonrise, but me and the kids barely make it ten or twenty minutes, and it’s agony to hold off even a little. Sucks when the moon comes up before nightfall, let me tell you.” 

“The kids? He bit his own kids? …Wait, not Crish, right? Tell me he didn’t bite a baby.” Just the thought of that punched the air out of his lungs and made his blood boil.

Mary shuddered against him, drawing a ragged breath. “No. He— I didn’t _know_. I always wanted kids, and after leaving Joseph failed, I tried— Being pregnant was hard, with the changes. I lost one, before Crish. When… when Crish was born I was happy though, until the moon. He was screaming when it rose, and kept crying as a pup after.” 

Her voice got quieter and quieter, making Robert have to strain to hear. “Joseph told me afterward that if the mother is a werewolf, her children will be born like that. He didn’t care that we’d doomed our son to endless pain, month after month for his whole life. He was thrilled! Every time I look at Crish, all I can think about is how I’ve cursed him.” 

Damn. Robert had known Mary had a little trouble being around her youngest but… He got it, he did, and it left him feeling cold inside. What could he do? There was no way to fix it, and words seemed petty. So he put his arms around her, and she gasped her grief and guilt out into his shoulder, wine bottle falling from her fingers.

* * *

The last couple days leading up to the full moon were hell on earth. Robert was starving all the time, couldn’t concentrate on anything, and couldn’t sit still. Taking Betsy for walks wasn’t enough. 

He ended up going for a jog, way earlier than he was usually up, just in hopes of calming down the restless energy enough to take a nap, since it had been almost a full day since he’d slept. At least his hangovers had been clearing up faster, even if they hit much harder. 

Robert hadn’t even thought about others being out and about, but for the most part, it was mutual avoidance. 

Then— “Robert, dude! I didn’t know you ran!” 

Craig. Probably the last person Robert wanted to see, especially when he was feeling like he needed to run (chase, catch…) and had the now familiar needy desperation rooted deep into the back of his brain. Alone was terrible, but right now, Joseph was keeping Mary busy and Robert would’ve bet good money that it was intentional. Texting and the rare phone call was just not enough. 

Craig was still talking, but Robert had tuned the rest out. So he just responded to the first part, wishing he had better shoes, and maybe sweatpants that weren’t on the verge of falling off. It was kind of disturbing how loose his clothes were getting. “I don’t.” 

Craig was in such good shape that he could whistle and run at the same time. “Damn, bro, how are you keeping this pace? That’s amazing.” 

“Hidden talents.” Robert sped up, wondering if he’d be feeling this tomorrow. Craig sped up to match him with a muttered ‘dude!’ Something inside him twitched, wanting, needing to win. Or to run Craig down and—

“Race you.” Better than the other option. 

“You’re on!” 

Craig was off like a shot, running easily. Robert was slower to pick up his pace, but trying to catch up from behind was… good. He found himself growling. “Gonna get ya!” 

Craig laughed and picked up a burst of speed. Robert sped up. He could feel the strain now, but it wasn’t important. He was so close—

“Got ya!” 

Craig yelped, stumbled, and ended up reeling against a tree on the side of the path. Robert realized belatedly that he’d basically jumped on the other man. Craig was all hard muscle and cool, damp skin beneath his hands and arms, and he smelled so good. Salty sweat and skin and—

Robert was filled with a good feeling so intense it left him shivering. He hadn’t touched another person in days, and oh _god_. Craig was chuckling, a little nervous, hip and one side of his chest against the tree, and he pushed back a little. Shit, Robert was halfway to hard. 

“Didn’t tell me you wanted to play tag, man. What are you gonna do now that you’ve caught me?” Playful, warm, and not resisting even though Craig definitely could have thrown Robert off.

“Make you mine—“ And he could, couldn’t he? Just one bi— Fuck, fuck _fuck_ — Robert reeled back, disgusted with the thoughts running through his head. 

“Sorry— I… I need to go.” And then he ran all the way back to his house, pushing himself until his legs screamed at him and he couldn’t breathe. Craig called once, obviously confused, but Robert ignored it and didn’t look back. 

He collapsed on his coach with some water and cold chicken and dialed Mary. She didn’t answer and he ended up leaving one, two, three rambling messages on her voicemail. By the fourth call he was just begging her to pick up. 

Sixth call he hit a different number, vaguely surprised at the number of recent calls his phone listed. That one went to voicemail too. 

“Val— God, I… I don’t deserve you, didn’t deserve your mom, don’t deserve anything. I’m a goddamned threat to the community. I’m disgusting, I’m a wreck. I don’t— I know you hate me. But I can’t. I just I can’t. I don’t know what to do. I’m alone and it hurts so much and I keep thinking. I’m gonna hurt somebody or— I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t do this alone. I can’t sleep and I’m drinking myself to death but it’s not happening fast enough and I can’t keep anything good because when I’m happy I just have to destroy it and when I’m miserable all I want to do is find some relief and I’m a goddammned moron and— I can’t stop. I don’t know how to stop.“ 

At some point the phone had shut off, and Robert numbly hoped she hadn’t heard most of that. He reached for the whiskey, remembered waking up in Joseph’s arms, and threw it against the wall instead. Two more followed it, soaking his carpet. The fourth was empty when he finally threw it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of body horror in this one. Also a vet should have been called but wasn't, so sort of unsafe medical practices. 
> 
> Also, also, impromptu reader poll: hyena or wolverine? (it won't come into play until the second or third arcs but it'll be important, and there are merits to both)

The morning and afternoon were a shitfaced blur, but Robert didn’t black out again, at least. And he didn’t go to Joseph. What finally inspired him to do something other than drink and pace was Betsy whining at the back door. He let her out, got food (on the floor) in her bowl, and worked on cleaning up some of the mess and getting rid of the rest of the whiskey in his house. He wasn’t gonna let Betsy hurt herself on all the broken glass. 

He was cut up six ways to Sunday, sore, and finally feeling tired when he was done. There was a bunch of trash bags in his lawn, but trash day wasn’t for… uh two days? Whatever, it could wait. Robert rinsed off in the shower, said fuck it to more than that even if the cuts hurt and one was still bloody, and collapsed on his bed without even dressing. Betsy whined at him, but settled on the pillow next to his head, licking industriously at some of the cuts on his fingers. 

Pain flashing up his spine woke him, and Robert tried to get away from it in a daze. It was when he hit the floor that he finally realized that it was _inside_. A terrible cracking hit his ears and the pain suddenly flowed out into the rest of him. Somebody was scream—no, he was. Robert tried to bring his hand up to— he didn’t know. Warm and wet dripped on his face, and Robert managed to open his eyes against the agony long enough to…

What the fuck. The skin along his hand and arm tore open, and the red and pale mass inside it twisted and crawled. Robert watched something white, bone, fuck, that was bone, crack in half, grow, and—

Now the screaming was in horror, and not just pain. 

How long it took, Robert had no idea. Everything was torture and it seemed to go on and on and on. He knew dimly that he was still screaming, but at some point the sound stopped, and Robert had no idea if it was because of losing his hearing or losing his voice. 

Then suddenly it was over, leaving only echoes singing along his bones like a persistent bruise. Robert just concentrated on breathing, hearing a whining dog so, so close. Even that stopped and he started feeling… warm. Almost good. The ache was still there, and he was _starving_ and kind of feeling like he was running on caffeine well past his limits, but… Good. 

He was on his back, and he felt…weird. Somehow the floor was also pressed against his ears and the top of his head and… With his eyes finally open, he got a good, but upside down look at his bed-stand and he tried to roll, feeling like he was drunk but not quite. Nothing was moving like it should—

That wasn’t his hand. That was a dog’s paw. That was— fuck. Fur and was that a damn tail? Betsy barked at him, sniffing and licking and then dancing away, her little tail wagging. Robert tried to speak, but it came out as a weird whine. A dog’s wine. 

After falling twice, Robert managed to get up, on hands and—on four paws. There was a full length mirror on his closet door and… yeah. That was a goddamned dog (wolf? looked like the wolves they’d shown on a show about the Beast of Bray Road.) staring back at him. He opened his mouth and the wolf did. He lifted his left…hand, and the wolf lifted its left paw. He had turned into a literal wolf. His hands…paws were bleeding again from where he’d cut himself up cleaning the broken glass. Damn, he’d been hoping it’d stop for good if he gave it time. Any kind of weight on the one paw hurt too, but after what had happened, it was almost an afterthought.

There was a thump as Betsy dropped her favorite ball at his feet. Robert reached for it— Right. Paws, not thumbs. He picked it up in his mouth (jaws) trying not to taste it, and kind of tossed his head. The ball didn’t go very far, but Betsy seemed pleased anyway. _Damn_ , he was so fucking hungry. 

Stairs were a challenge like this, but Robert made it down with only a little stumbling, and promptly slipped on the tile floor of his kitchen. It was too smooth; and if that was what it was like for Betsy, he was redoing the floors. 

But there was a problem. He couldn’t get into his fridge like this. He even tried to get his teeth around the handle but they kept slipping. _Shit_. 

He needed food. He was so hungry it _hurt_. Robert didn’t realize he was whining until Betsy put her paws up to reach him and lick his face. She barely reached. Were wolves usually this big? His head was above counter level for goodness’ sake. 

Feeling desperate, Robert nudged open his lower counters and hurt his teeth yanking on the drawers. Nothing edible there that wasn’t in cans. He couldn’t remember having anything useful in the upper ones either, so… He had to go out, somehow. 

But as he approached his door, something made his hair (fur) stand up. A smell that was weirdly familiar but stronger than he’d ever smelled before.

“I’m certain, Hugo. The… screams I heard were most definitely Robert; I fear the worst.” 

Damien? Oh hell, Damien had heard him? And the teacher too? Robert didn’t know him very well, but his son was a little prick who’d spray painted his house. 

“I’m happy to be backup, but if you’re right, shouldn’t we… dial 911?” 

Robert could hear footsteps, definitely on his porch. “Ah… well, if it isn’t the worst case, so to say, I am concerned that dialing 911 would irreparably damage our budding friendship. He’s made such strides recently, and Mary is always terribly worried on his behalf.” 

There was a pause, and then his door creaked. “Oh dear, it wasn’t even halfway closed. What could—“

There was a growl in his throat, and Damien was staring at him from the doorway, having used a handkerchief (smart, if somebody had broken in or something, actually) to pull the door the rest of the way open. But they were coming in his house and that was _bad_. They shouldn’t be allowed in his house! Robert wasn’t even sure— Right, hadn’t Mary said something about being territorial? 

Behind Damien, Hugo swore and put a hand on Damien’s shoulder to pull the slender man back. “Is that Robert’s dog? That thing is huge!” 

That was when Betsy decided to come forward, barking excitedly, and make some friends. Traitor. Damien knelt to rub her ears, but his eyes never left Robert’s. “ _This_ fine lady is Robert’s canine companion, although I do believe he prefers to keep that fact hidden for his image. I… don’t know about the other one. He looks so thin, and his paws are bleeding.” 

All Robert could do was growl more. He didn’t like the staring, and he wasn’t thin! He wasn’t, right? (But he was so hungry.) 

Hugo cleared his throat. “Maybe we should call animal control. That looks more like a wolf than a dog, and if a wild animal got inside the house… What I’m saying is I think we should back away slowly and let a professional handle this.” 

“Wolfdog, of that I have little doubt, because Hugo, surely you know that there are no actual wolves in this part of the country. Wolfdogs are such a handful, so I suspect we have an escaped pet on our hands.” Damien reached into his pocket, and Robert noticed belatedly that he didn’t have any makeup on, was wearing glasses, and his fine clothes were rumpled like he’d thrown them on in a hurry. But what he brought out— _Food_. 

Robert was coming forward without really meaning to, growl changing to a whine. Damien was saying something, but all that mattered was the piece of whatever it was in Damien’s hand. It smelled like meat. He remembered at the last second not to bite at it, and licked it off instead, and Damien laughed. 

Dammit, he was not a ‘good boy’ (and maybe it might have been nice otherwise, but…) so Robert tried to tell Damien off for it, and only got out a strangled sounding whine mixed with a bark? Ugh. Not having the ability to talk sucked. 

Damien’s fingers found his ears and… Okay, yes, touch was actually good and Damien was a nice guy and maybe he’d stay and Robert wouldn’t be so terribly alone and—

What the hell? What had Damien— Leash. Damien was going to suffer for this! Robert started pawing at it immediately, hating that he didn’t have hands right now, but that only got shushing and more sweet words from Damien. He really did love dogs, huh? 

“What now?” Hugo again. Why was he even here? The man backed away a little more when Robert growled again. 

“We cannot get inside with this handsome fellow in the way, and he needs medical attention desperately. I can take him to the shelter if you can do what else needs to be done, my friend.” 

There was more food in Damien’s hand. Dried… jerky? That was okay, Robert was down with jerky. He’d be down with almost anything, honestly. Except maybe kibble. He was not eating dog food. Probably. 

And Hugo was going into his house. Hell no— More jerky. “Come with me, my furred friend, and I will endeavor to make sure you eat your fill.” 

Robert was sure this was a bad idea, but food, and what else could he do? His hands (paws) hurt and he was so hungry, and could he really go after a deer and bring it down or something? Robert was pretty sure that the urge to chase and the hunger were expecting him to do that, but wolves hunted in packs for a reason. 

So he let Damien pull him into the car and drive off. Once he’d gotten something to eat, Robert was pretty sure he could just pull the leash free of Damien’s grip or something. The shelter had the lever handles, so the door shouldn’t be a problem, right? 

There were more bits of the jerky on the drive, and then it was too late to back out. They were inside, and there were so many smells and so much barking. Robert pushed his nose against Damien’s pocket; he wanted that food now. 

“Easy, my friend. All in good time. Paws first.” 

Robert was pretty sure he had no real way of conveying the sarcastic quip he wanted to make like this, and all that came out was the strangled sounding whine again. But Damien was going to be insistent, he saw, so Robert let his paw be picked up as Damien started washing away at it. The soap stung on the cuts, making him flinch and almost pull back, but Damien persisted, humming encouragements all the while. 

Then he did something that really hurt, and Robert hadn’t expected it, pulling his paw completely out of Damien’s grasp with a yelp. A yelp from Damien too, and Robert felt almost bad at the scrape on Damien’s palm that was starting to bead up blood. Must have been from Robert’s new nails (claws?), which weren’t horror movie claws or anything, but definitely needed a trim. Even Betsy’s comparatively tiny nails could do a number on somebody if she needed them cut back. 

“Oh dear! But I’m afraid you have something in that cut, boy, do hold still—“ 

Something…? Glass? He’d gotten one shard kind of deep when he’d nearly faceplanted in the pile of shattered bottles early on in his cleaning attempt. But he thought he’d gotten it ou—ow fuck! 

It was nothing compared to the change, but the yank and twist definitely hurt, and Damien had surprised him again. Damien proudly held up a shard of glass in the tweezers he’d picked up from somewhere. 

“Got it. This is… oh my dear fellow, you got into Robert’s trash, didn’t you? He was throwing out glass today, I know that much.” 

Robert didn’t even bother trying to answer that one, and didn’t squirm for the rest, even if he really wanted to at the wrapping. Now his paws felt weird and constrained and he was really unsure about the wrapping combined with the floors of this place. It was kind of… nice to be taken care of though. 

But he couldn’t say it, so Robert cast around for an idea of how to show it and— That cut on Damien’s hand. It felt dumb, but Betsy had done it to him so it probably wouldn’t seem undoglike, right? So Robert licked it, feeling even hungrier with the taste of blood on his tongue. Maybe definitely a bad idea. 

Damien looked charmed though, and scratched at his ears. “Let’s get you settled and some food and water.” 

The cage was embarrassing, but roomy, and Robert was positive he could slide back the bar and get out, no problem. The only other dog in a cage so big was a huge mastiff across the way. Robert thought he was taller, but the other dog definitely outweighed him. 

Then Damien brought him a bowl of… kibble, damn it. Robert looked at Damien, back at the bowl, at Damien, and then just a careful application of his weight and— oops! He really didn’t mean that, really. Really! 

Damien looked dismayed at the kibble all over the floor, but realization dawned as Robert tried to press his nose into the pocket that held the nice jerky. 

“Oh dear. Well, we’re not supposed to do this for just any dog but…” 

A minute later he came back with another filled bowl. This one smelled wet and meaty and good god, he needed it. Most of the way through bolting it down, Robert realized it was canned dog food and not really any better, but no sense in stopping now. He whined, doing his best to look miserable, and stared up at Damien when he’d finished it. He was so _hungry_. 

Damien fidgeted and finally sighed. “You are such a large fellow, and I can feel all your ribs… One more can can’t hurt.” 

The second was gone as quickly as the first, but even pawing at the bowl and looking up at Damien from where he’d put his head on his wrapped paws didn’t get the man to budge. He got an ear ruffle instead and it felt nice. “Too much would probably make you sick, my friend. I know you must be starving, but just a bit at a time will be better for you in the long run.” 

It… kind of made sense. But Robert didn’t think his whole body rearranging himself fit into Damien’s understanding of the situation at all. And he definitely didn’t want Damien to get suspicious; he had to get out later, and he wasn’t a fool. There was a padlock holding the slide in place on the mastiff’s cage. Moving the slide he knew he could do, but a padlock? Not possible. So he just whined some more. 

It didn’t work and he hadn’t expected it to, and Robert found himself _howling_ when Damien walked out the door and turned off the lights. No, no! Don’t leave, dammit! No! Come back! Come back, please. _Please_.

Then one of the other dogs started in, and another, and soon it was a goddamned chorus, echoing off the walls. Robert tried to settle himself down to wait a little while before making the escape, he did. But hunger clawed at him (he needed to find Joseph, or Mary, or Damien. Wait, Damien?) and he ended up scarfing up the spilled kibble, ugh, so dry and not very appetizing. He lapped the bowl of water until it was gone and then decided he couldn’t wait anymore. 

It took quite a bit more time than he would have expected to get the slide moved. His wrapped paws were not good for maneuvering, and his nose was a bit wide to get through the mesh. But he huffed out happily when he finally got it and shouldered the cage open. The big mastiff barked, booming off the walls, and some of the other dogs started up again, but Robert didn’t care. The door handles were easier, although he ended up pinching his tail in the one. Dammit!

Soon enough he was out on the town and— Small, fast, chase—

Robert realized it was a cat a second too late. There was blood in his mouth and he was so hungry. It didn’t have a collar, at least, and was kind of matted and dirty, so a stray. Probably. Hopefully. He got blood all over and fur in his teeth but he felt a little better. 

There were no more incidents on the way home at least until he got to his door. It was closed. _Locked_. Fuck. Give him hands, a couple paper clips, and some time and he could pick the lock, he knew, (heh, breaking into his own house) but he had none of those things right now. 

So gloomily, Robert managed to scramble into the bed of his truck to wait it out, even if all he really wanted to do was go to Damien. Because he was closest, probably, right? Sunrise probably wasn’t far, right? He started trying to chew the wrappings off his paws in the meantime.


	8. Chapter 8

He woke up a second before the pain hit, feeling a tightness gripping his back. Then the pain rippled up his spine, and something high pitched tore out of his muzzle. 

It wasn’t any easier or cleaner on the way back to human, but Robert thought he made progress on not screaming to wake the entire cul-de-sac. Probably. 

Once it was done, though, he did feel warm, happy— Yeah, he could see why Mary’d compared it to E. Not exactly but kind of nice all the same. He could just… hang out for a couple minutes. Yeah. 

And… he was lying naked in the bed of his truck when it was definitely around the time for Craig to be up. Shit. 

Scrambling up only earned him a chaffed ass, and then Robert remembered that he was locked out of his own house. He still didn’t have paperclips, but at least there was an old sweater in the back of his truck. So not naked now, just mostly naked. Progress, right? 

After a few minutes of trying to remember if he’d hid a spare key somewhere, and checking the back door (somebody had been in his house, he never locked the damn thing), Robert just slid down the door. He’d have to wait until somebody came. Hopefully Mary, because he definitely wasn’t heading over to her house mostly naked. Joseph would probably jump him. 

Something jerked him awake, and the light was brighter so he must have been out for a bit. Robert squinted up and. Good. “Mornin’ Mary.” 

She sighed heavily, stepping gingerly up his steps like she was sore, and she smelled… 

“Spent time with Joseph?” 

“Every moon. Four aren’t enough.” She pulled a blister pack out of her purse. “And now we’re going to get smashed to forget about it.” 

She took another step and then frowned. “What did you do, drop your keys in the woods?” 

Robert shrugged. “Ask your favorite vampire.” Wait, he had to ask “Real or bullshit?” 

“Damien is very real, Robert,” Mary pursed her lips and then grinned. “Vampires are probably bullshit.” 

Her eyes raked up and down him and his dick stirred, but then she turned away. “You’d probably give him a heart attack, so I’ll do the talking.” 

Robert just closed his eyes. The good feeling had worn off, leaving him starving (again, or still?) and feeling like he could sleep for a week. When he heard the jangling of his keys he opened his eyes again. Mary unlocked his door without saying anything and closed it quietly before rounding on him. 

“Damian? _Really?_ What if he’d made the connection last night?” 

That made Robert bristle. “I didn’t _ask_ for him to come over. I guess he heard me screaming. I didn’t know what else to do so I just let him take me.” 

“And then you escaped.” Mary shook her head. “You will apologize for worrying him and think up a good excuse later. He’s going to be very stressed about his new favorite dog disappearing from the shelter, you know.”

Robert felt a little guilty, almost. “And I’m sure finding a naked man in the kennel would have been a treat for him or whoever does the morning shift.” 

She huffed a laugh and went to his liquor cupboard, and then swore quietly. “How much did you drink yesterday?” 

“Most of it went…” Robert just helplessly gestured at the still wet stretch of carpet that was putting off an overpowering smell of alcohol. 

“Well, you don’t get any then. Joseph will smell it if I don’t wash it down good.” She popped the pill out of the blister pack and downed it with several swallows of a wine he hadn’t particularly liked, and then took several more. 

Robert was about to ask what she was talking about when it all came together. Joseph and Mary had definitely fucked last night, and she didn’t want him to know— God _damn_. “Mary…” 

She didn’t protest when Robert hugged her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist. She just shuddered. “I … I just can’t. Not to another baby. Joseph wants it so much, but I _can’t_.” 

Damn Joseph. Robert found he could growl in human form too, apparently. “Why the hell can’t we just say screw him and leave, again? We have each other for the alone thing.” 

Her tone was bitter, defeated. “Do you really think he’d just let us go? Let Crish go? Do you really think we could support a baby and each other when we’re both too drunk to function most of the time?” 

“Staying sure as hell isn’t going to improve any of that.” 

“I know.”

* * *

Mary left quickly and Robert was halfway through his shower when he realized something was missing. Where was Betsy? He barely dried off, and there was probably shampoo still in his hair, but he _needed_ to find her. 

She wasn’t in the house, or the back yard or the front yard. Where had she— Wait, hadn’t Damien taken care of her before at the shelter? 

But the man hadn’t brought her with them, and hadn’t come back later. Robert was about to march over to his neighbor’s house anyway when he remembered what Mary had said once about the boy, Lucien, being severely allergic to dogs. 

There was one other person who’d been there, and it was still early enough for the Vegas to still be home. God damn, when was the last time he’d been up this earl… well, the jogging incident, actually. Was this gonna be a new habit? Robert didn’t know if he liked it.

He knocked on the door and waited. When it swung in, Robert leaned, resting his forearm on the frame near his head, and put on his best intimidating expression. 

“What did you do with my dog, Vega?” 

Hugo swallowed audibly, hands stilling from where they were in the middle of doing up his tie. His hair was still down and a little damp. “What makes you think I had anything to do with it?” 

“I already had to go get my keys this morning. Bloodmarch spilled the beans. Where’s my dog?”

Hugo was standing so still and something in the back of Robert’s head was thrilled with this. He could just step forward and— No. Bad thoughts. 

Something must have changed, because suddenly those fingers were moving again, finishing up the tie, and Robert couldn’t have looked away. Hugo sounded slightly annoyed. 

“If you hadn’t pulled whatever stunt it was that you were pulling, you would already know. I don’t appreciate getting dragged into—“ 

That wasn’t going anywhere good. “Sometimes a man just has to get the hell out of his house and be free for a while. Surely you understand.” 

“While leaving your keys, wallet, and that jacket that you never go anywhere without behind? _And_ leaving your door wide open?” 

Robert could appreciate the snarky tone, he could. And he could drawl out something in response like a champ. “Sometimes a man wakes up from an afternoon nap with the very jaws of hell panting in his face and has to make like the Road Runner.” 

Hugo leaned back just slightly, blinking several times behind his glasses. Then the snark returned. “Then I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that the wolf…dog is safely in the shelter.” 

“Sure am, but that was no wolf or dog. It was straight from hell. Mark my words.” Maybe he couldn't’ resist playing a little. The other man swallowed again, but he kept glancing at Robert’s hand. Robert finally looked and… his hand was shaking. He tried to hold it still and the shaking got worse. That was enough to make him step back and shove both hands in his pockets. 

There was something that looked an awful lot like pity in Hugo’s eyes. “If you… need a few days to yourself, I can take care of her for you. It’s no trouble.” 

“My dog is the only reason I get outta bed most days.” It was supposed to be flippant, but it hit way too close to home. Shit. Could he pass it off as a joke? 

“Oh.” At least Hugo looked as awkward as Robert felt. “If you want to talk to someone, I happen to have a few phone numbers…” 

“I just want my dog.” Robert was about to say screw it and barge in when he heard a creak of a door somewhere in the house, the clatter of nails on floor and the little prick shouting. No reason not to get down to his knees so Betsy could come barreling into his arms. She licked his face furiously, tail going a mile a minute and yapping happily. “There’s my girl. Sorry about yesterday; I’m gonna try to do better.” 

She gave him a deep, soulful look, like she understood. Good old Betsy. He stood up again, glad that holding the terrier helped hide the shaking in his hands. 

“Your drunk ass doesn’t deserve her.” And there was the little prick, scowling fiercely. 

“Ernest Hemingway Vega!” 

And too tired to deal with this. Robert turned his back and started towards his house. “Thanks Hugo. And hey, Ernest? Don’t forget you owe me for the cherry bomb and spray-painting wino, lush, and souse over the front of my house, little prick! Points for souse though. Good word, souse.” 

“Robert!” 

“You shouldn’t need to apologize for your kid, Hugo. He’s gotta accept his own consequences.”

“That wasn’t—“ Robert could almost hear Hugo throwing his hands up in defeat and a minute later the door clicked closed behind him. 

Robert made sure Betsy had a chance to pee and a possibly second breakfast, while he searched his cupboards for a drink and came up empty. So he had some water and hotdogs that he thought might have been cooked (he hoped) and then carried her upstairs. “How about a nap, huh?”

* * *

Robert woke up to heavy knocking on his door, feeling lightheaded, shaky and hungry as hell. He stumbled down the stairs and opened the door to late afternoon night framing Mary, looking furious, and dragging a very strangely dressed, and distressed, Damien behind her. He looked all modern, which wasn’t a bad look, but Robert had thought Damien didn’t even own modern clothes. Huh. 

“How _dare_ you bite him!” 

What? “I didn’t bite—“ 

Mary just grabbed Robert’s hand and pressed it against Damien’s forehead. Warm, and Damien didn’t look too good now that Robert was paying attention, but he _hadn’t_. Damien made a little squeak of surprise and discomfort and Robert shot the other man an apologetic look. 

Damien put up one of his hands. “Mary, I assure you, Robert’s mouth has never been anywhere near my skin.” 

Mary was still side-eyeing Robert. “What about that escaped wolfdog you found in Robert’s house?” 

“I don’t see how that’s even related to Robert beyond the—“ 

Robert sighed. “Better to just answer that; I don’t think she’ll believe me right now. If I wasn’t me, I probably wouldn’t believe me either.” 

Damien put one hand on his hip, actually looking mildly annoyed. “Honestly Mary, I just seem to have caught a mild fever. And that wolfdog was the utmost gentleman last night. Really, it’s my fault that I didn’t consider the padlock, given how tall he was. That and I never expected someone other than The Duchess to know how to open doors.” 

Damien cut his musing off and held out his bandaged hand, working fingers beneath the edge of the tape. “The only injury I received was this little scratch from the poor boy’s untrimmed nails when I was pulling glass out of his paws— Oh dear.” 

The little scratch was all swollen up, angry red extending all the way across his palm and over his wrist. Robert looked at Mary. Mary looked back at Robert. The “shit” was in perfect stereo. 

“ _Scratches_ , Mary?” Robert almost couldn’t believe it, but the evidence was right there. His stomach sank. He’d just become almost as bad as Joseph. Not knowing was only a small excuse. 

Mary looked like a deer in headlights. “I didn’t know. Everyone I’ve seen turned, it’s always been a _bite_. Joseph never talked about scratches—“ 

“Would one of you please explain what’s going on?” Damien had raised his voice. Wow.

Damien was not going to believe this. Probably. But Robert pulled aside his shirt, knowing that even though it was a scar by now (healing faster was definitely a perk), it was still distinct enough to show the tooth marks. “That wolf last night was me. I was trying so hard not to hurt or frighten you when you didn’t scram on seeing me. But I guess I ended up doing it anyway. I’m sorry.” 

Robert couldn’t look, and crossed his arms over his chest to hide the discomfort. He was a horrible person, forcing this on someone else.

“I— What?” Suddenly Damien laughed. “Oh you two are such practical jokers, but I must go home. I’m not feeling well and… Why aren’t you laughing?” 

Mary pulled aside her own collar, and her bite was fresh looking and bloody. Joseph liked to mark and Robert guessed that meant every time he had sex with anybody. Then she pulled her mouth into a toothy grin, showing off the teeth. “Do these look human to you?” 

Damien sputtered, and Robert could tell it was going to take a little bit more, so he held out his hands. The cuts from the glass still looked raw and fresh. “Recognize these?” 

“I… Oh dear. You’re not lying? I don’t understand.” Damien looked so lost, and Robert felt a pang. 

“‘Fraid not. I knew when I felt the fever. I’m sorry, Dames. I _never_ wanted this for you.” 

“I… need to sit down,” Damien said weakly, and everything stopped until they got him situated on the couch. 

Mary grabbed one of Damien’s hands, and then dragged Robert’s over into a hand pile. “We’re going to take care of you, and make it as easy as we can. I’m not gonna lie; it _sucks_. But we’re here for you, Dames.” 

She was giving Robert the stink-eye, and, yeah, he was responsible. “I… Shit. I’m terrible at people, but I like you more than most, and I never wanted this. I wish I could go back in time and run away or something. I had no idea a scratch would do something like that.” 

Damien looked between them and swallowed. “You… sounded like you were unaware that a scratch would, um, turn me? Oh goodness, I’m not going to become a danger to my son, am I?”

“No, not at all. You’ll always be yourself, and you’d have to bite…or scratch, I guess, Lucien to turn him. Just don’t pull a Robert and drink yourself into a stupor on the day of the full moon and then change in your house.” 

“Hey!” 

Mary smiled sweetly. “Are you going to deny it?” 

“I wasn’t that drunk… but I hadn’t slept in, hell, a couple days, so I guess it’s the same difference.” 

“Okay.” Damien took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay… I’m terrified, but I guess I can’t hide from it. What is going to happen?”


	9. Chapter 9

Mary explained carefully what was going to happen, and in a lot more detail than she had for Robert. When Robert called her on it, she just shrugged and dropped the bomb that she’d been mad at him for sleeping with her husband after she’d warned him about it. Well, that had gone so well. But they’d gotten through it, and better Damien knew what kind of person he was. 

Damien was pale and shaky by the end of it, but hard to tell if he was just getting sicker or if he was afraid. However, when he found out that he could die (that Robert’s heart had stopped four times; thanks for dropping another bomb in public, Mary) he became adamant about one thing. 

Lucien had to know. 

Mary argued against it. Robert listed off at least three ways it could end badly. Damien still insisted. 

So they packed up their little party and headed next door. Lucien complained about being called out of his room, but his entire expression changed when he saw Damien, and he was running off to get some aspirin before anybody could stop him. Once Lucien had completed his self-assigned quest, Damien led them to a parlor and sat down a little too heavily on the couch. 

Lucien was quiet through the explanation and the proofs that they could provide, looking back and forth between Mary and Robert stonily, when he wasn’t giving Damien borderline panicked looks. 

“So werewolves are real. Okay, cool.” Then he gave Robert and Mary both a look of almost smug disdain. “But you two are terrible at it. How do you accidentally turn somebody? Neither of you did any research, did you?” 

Robert looked at Mary, and she just curled up on herself a little. Well, one of them had to speak up. “In my defense, I was bitten barely a month ago, and didn’t believe the werewolf thing was actually happening until a few days ago. But you’re right… If we can find non-bullshit sources, anyway.” 

Lucien shrugged. “That’s easy. Find a forum, post some stuff you definitely know is true, post some bullshit and see who gets both right. They probably know what they’re talking about and can tell you where to look for more info.” 

Robert… could probably do that, actually. Wouldn’t hurt to try it. But he just raised his eyebrow at the teen. “You volunteering?” 

“Nah,” Lucien flipped his hair away from his eyes, “But I do wanna know who the hell bit you two. You guys didn’t mean it, but sounds like that jerk did, and I’m swearing vengeance on his ass.” 

“Lucien, while I appreciate the sentiment, you don’t need to go on a revenge quest for me.” Damien’s smile had a little bit of twinkle. “I’m perfectly capable of arranging something suitable myself.” 

Lucien smiled at his dad, but then went actually serious. “But seriously, who is this bad dude?” 

Mary sighed heavily. “My husband. Moving against him will probably turn up nothing good; leave it alone, kid. Just keep an eye out if he suddenly starts spending a lot of time with one of our neighbors. That’s how he always starts.” 

There was a gasp from Damien. “How many times has he done this, Mary?” 

“Aside from me and Robert here?” Mary shrugged, fingers twitching like she wanted a glass of something in her hands. “Four. Two men before me died because of the change. After me, one killed herself, and the last man before Robert disappeared after being saved from the same thing. I distracted Joseph for him; he never came back.” 

She said it matter-of-fact, with a shake in her voice at the end, but Robert remembered how upset she’d been about the possibility of him doing the same thing. He reached over Damien’s shoulders to place a hand on Mary’s near one. She relaxed just a tad under the touch. 

Damien grabbed Mary’s hand in his own. “Mary, why do you even stay? I never said anything about how unhappy you’ve been, but that kind of behavior is exceptionally unhealthy for you and the children.”

Mary twitched back. “I can’t leave. None of us can. Wolves don’t last alone, and he’s the alpha. Even if we _did_ leave, do you think he’d just sit by and let us?” 

“He why we haven’t packed Dad off to the hospital yet?” Lucien drawled, and Robert had to admit that hospital was a good idea, considering the four times his own heart had apparently stopped. 

“He can’t know. I really don’t need to watch my husband fuck both of my best friends,” Mary muttered bitterly and so very quietly, but from the way Lucien stiffened, the boy had heard. 

Damien just made a quiet, horrified sound. “He wouldn’t… would he?” 

Robert shrugged and decided he wasn’t going to keep kid gloves on for this. Lucien had to face that the world was full of terrible people, and generally sucked. “Couple days after I got over the deathly ill part of things, I got blackout drunk and didn’t have the sense to ignore the urge to go to him anymore. I think. Only thing that stopped him the next morning was Chris having a tantrum after Christie asked if Joseph was gonna knock me up.” 

Lucien got up suddenly, hands in white-knuckled fists at his sides. “Hey, Dad? Do we still have that blow torch in the attic? I’ll use the crappy spoon, I swear.” 

Damien got up, swayed and then sat back down. “Absolutely not, Lucien.” 

It finally clicked for Robert. Of course Damien would have actual silver silverware. He grinned at the kid. “I like your style, kid, but research first. No sense wasting a good spoon if silver won’t do shit.”

* * *

Mary really couldn’t be spared, if they were keeping it from Joseph, so Robert was assigned nursing duty. And he got why, but not being able to drink or have the comfort of Betsy’s presence was going to _suck_. In the end he’d had to go back to the Vega’s place and tell Hugo he’d changed his mind. Robert was pretty sure he was neck deep in withdrawal by then, he was shaking so bad. But Hugo agreed and Robert more or less moved into the Bloodmarch’s place. 

The kiddy pool with the tarps and ice was set up in one of the rooms (what had Damien called it?) and Mary had shoved an IV into the poor man’s arm. He was now vomiting up his guts in the bathroom, and Robert wasn’t looking forward to the next part. 

What if Damien had seizures like Mary had talked about? What if Robert’s withdrawal got to the seizure stage instead? What if—

“Um…” 

Damien was at the door, pale under the flush of fever and shaking, blanket wrapped around him. Robert got up to help steady him, because he remembered this, and Damien tensed at the touch. 

“You okay? I know it’s probably awkward as hell, but the ice will keep the fever down, Mary says.” 

“I… ah. I usually don’t show anyone— My body.” 

Was that it? “Damn, Damien. I can promise I’ve seen it all before, and I won’t go staring or anything. I’m not a teenager anymore.”

“That’s not—“ Damien heaved what Robert was pretty sure was an exasperated sigh and suddenly dropped the blanket. 

Oh. 

Robert lifted his gaze back to Damien’s face and shrugged. “Like I’ve said; I’ve seen it all before. Dunno why you were worried, Damien. You’re a handsome guy.” 

Damien blushed and looked away. Robert had to help him into the tub because he was so shaky, and then took a good look at that long hair. It was going to get messy as hell. Damien had put it up, but Robert wasn’t going to bet on it staying that way.

“Hey, want me to do something, keep your hair out of the mess as much as possible?”

Damien was resting, curled up a little around his middle, which probably hurt like fuck right now, and twisted his head to look at Robert. “How do you mean?”

“When my daughter was little, I got a lot of practice braiding hair. I could do something up for you.” That had been when things were still kind of okay for him, when he could still mostly deal, and didn’t drink every day. 

Damien hesitated, and Robert could see the questions wanting to come out, but then he nodded. “I would like that, thank you.” 

Robert got himself a comb and some hair-ties and set to work, unable to stop smiling to himself as Damien relaxed into the process. He went French, working around Damien’s head instead of straight back, and then with a couple pins, put it up milkmaid style. He’d probably have to re-pin it a time or two because his hands had been shaking almost too hard to hold the comb by the end, but Robert was grinning when he finished. He still had it. 

Damien turned a sleepy look of contentment on him that was only marred by how obviously sick he was. “You’re very good at that—“

Then he ended up throwing up again less than five seconds later. Annnnd, time to change the water in kiddy pool already. 

This was going to be a very long few days.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 screwed up my formatting for the texts that appear in this chapter, so I just went with something that was hopefully easy to distinguish instead. Also Val puts in an appearance for the first time, and Robert continues to make bad decisions.

It was over. They’d all lived through it, and for a while Robert was worried he wouldn’t. He remembered the precursor of a seizure once, and was pretty sure that was just the one he remembered. He’d at least passed out more than once. Withdrawal was somehow worse than what he remembered of the deathly ill stage of turning into a werewolf. 

But Lucien knowing meant the kid was there for Damien when Robert’s alcohol addicted body took him out of the game, and Damien only had two seizures himself and his heart hadn’t stopped even once, which Mary said was really good. Going into a coma for a couple days was apparently normal, and Damien was up and showering now, way steadier on his feet than Robert had been. 

Robert was frying eggs for himself that Mary had pointedly dropped off while Lucien handled both fresh asparagus and some kind of marinated bean burger on the countertop grill that smelled heavenly. Mary had recommended lots of protein and Robert had imagined meat, but apparently beans and asparagus had lots too. Who knew? 

Damien came out dressed in an old t-shirt and his underwear, and gave them both a tired smile. “Thank you both for this. It smells divine.”

He slumped in his chair though, and Robert felt a flash of concern. Time to cover it up with joking! “We can still turn it into breakfast in bed, if you want.” 

Damien looked up through the curtain of his hair, a little smile on his mouth. “I fear that if I tried that, I would fall asleep in the middle of eating, and I think I’ve made you clean up enough recently.” 

That was about when Lucien shooed him to the table after a pointed look at his still shaking hands. Robert set himself down next to Damien. “How are you feeling?” 

“Exhausted. _Starving_. I could eat an entire horse, I think.”

“Just hold your horses for a couple minutes. We didn’t think about having any horse-devours ready.” Not really his best work, but nothing better for brightening the mood than a shitty pun or two.

Damien giggled, a little helplessly amused sound, but Lucien set plates down in front of them both and gave Robert a flat look. “You are hereby excommunicated. Begone, filthy punner.” 

Robert would have said something back, really, but god _damn_ the food was good. Lucien had about a quarter of the amount on his plate than Damien’s or Robert’s but they both ended up polishing it all off. And Robert felt better than he had when sneaking a few bites here and there in between watching Damien. Maybe Joseph hadn’t been wrong about needing to eat more. 

Damien leaned against his shoulder with a sigh once the plates were empty. “I just want to curl up with you both and take a nap.” 

Lucien grinned. “I could probably skip school again for you.” 

“But as tempting as it is, I know you’ll want to see your friends and work towards your future, so I’ll manage.” Nice save. Damien was stopped by a yawn though. “Off you go. Stay safe and remember that I love you.” 

“Awww.” Lucien shrugged. “Worth a try. Love you too, Dad. Remember that you have to answer to me for anything dumb you do, Rob.” 

Robert had told the kid at least four times not to call him that but it seemed too much effort, so he just very carefully picked up the plates and stuck them in the dishwasher. 

Once Lucien was out the door, Damien muttered something Robert couldn’t quite make out, and at the ‘speak up’ his cheeks went pink. “I… meant it though. Please don’t take this as a solicitation, I just meant sleep, but—“

“Hey. I get it. Alone is hell. If you wanna cuddle for a nap, I think I can handle that.” More than. Robert was desperate for it. At Damien’s nod, he grabbed his phone in case Mary called, and soon enough they were in Damien’s very, very nice bed. The frame and canopy were period appropriate, but the mattress had memory foam. _Damn good_ memory foam at that. 

Damien was asleep almost the moment he curled up against Robert’s side and it was… nice. Someone’s breath brushing over his skin, fingers loosely curled against his chest— It ached with regretful memories but it was so good at the same time… 

A relentless and obnoxious beeping woke Robert up from a deep sleep. As he fumbled for his phone it beeped again with another text. 

> ((Val))  
>  hey  
>  you alive?  
>  hey  
>  just y or n  
>  im done w/ ur shit  
>  hey  
>  hey  
>  dad u dont get to call me  
>  leave that many voicemails  
>  and not answer now  
>  hey!  
>  typical  
>  when i want you to say something  
>  you go radio silent

Damien groaned beside him and then nuzzled into his shoulder, clearly still mostly asleep. “mm, ‘sit Mary?”

> ((Val))  
>  fine  
>  go to hell  
>  again

Robert’s voice cracked when he tried to answer. “It’s Val. I screwed up again…” 

His hands were trembling still, which made typing out anything a chore, but he sent back a couple words.

> y  
>  sorry 

The phone beeped again. 

> ((Val))  
>  good  
>  i guess  
>  way to take 2 hours from my first text to answer  
>  now ur gonna listen  
>  no interrupting  
>  actually  
>  screw it  
>  im gonna copy paste the emails i sent to my girl

There was a long pause, and then his phone flipped out. There was too much for just one or two texts and there were no breaks in between things, except where the character limits hit. 

> I can’t believe this. I can’t believe him! Almost four years with nothing at all, then he won’t leave me alone all of a sudden. If he isn’t clogging up my voicemail, he’s hanging up after one ring. And he couldn’t just ask politely if we could reconnect, oh no. Not my dad. My melodramatic, drunk ass, lying dad had to come up with some bullshit about an affair with a married man who’s trying to enslave him. Or kill him. He’s become such a drunk that he can’t even keep his own bullshit straight anymore. And he keeps going on and on about how he’s so alone and it hurts, and he’s going to end up back in married asshole’s bed. I mean, it’s a damn piece of work. If it wasn’t my dad’s bullshit, I’d say it made for a pretty decent plot line. I just don’t get why he’d even think he had a chance to patch things up with me, after the shit he pulled most of my childhood, and now all of this on top of it. But of course he just has to keep pushing. His last call, he even made it sound like he was suicidal!

God damn, had he told Val everything? Robert only clearly remembered calling her once. And then the next line jumped to something else and Robert was thoroughly confused, until he realized that it must have been a different email, after a reply to Val’s first one. 

> Don’t logic at me, dear. I know I’m the one who told him never to contact me again. That’s not the point. You can’t seriously believe any of that bullshit is true. You haven’t even heard the half of it. He went on about how the man’s wife was his only friend, and how married asshole wasn’t letting her get away, and how he couldn’t check out because he couldn’t leave her. Like I wouldn’t pick up on the damn Hotel California reference. And he was doing all of it completely drunk off his ass. He was even slurring, and he’s no lightweight. I’m just so angry! I want to shut him down, but if I contact him back he’ll take it as free reign to keep doing this.

Another skip, and Robert’s heart was beating fast, and his throat was too dry, and he just wanted to put the phone down and not read it at all. One of Damien’s arms wrapped around his chest. 

“I’m here for you.” 

All Robert could do was nod as he scrolled down. 

> Fine. I’ll give him one more last chance, but only because you’re so good at convincing me to do things. When he calls again, I’ll answer, and ask how he’s doing. You’d better hurry home from your conference. I don’t want to face this without you. 

Robert’s phone beeped again. 

> ((Val))  
>  guess what  
>  u failed  
>  u cant bullshit me about not being able to text back because of work or something  
>  u were either sleeping off a hangover or busy getting sauced back up  
>  dont try to deny it  
>  going silent after that last message was real bad form dad  
>  did u want me to worry?

No, he hadn’t, and now he regretted every call he’d apparently made. He couldn’t tell her the whole truth though. She definitely wouldn’t believe that. 

> when im sober i remember im not supposed to call u ever again 

That sounded too… something. More unreal than the reality, even if Robert was living withdrawal right now. 

> ((Val))  
>  u were sober for a week and a half?  
>  bullshit  
>  u never managed more than a day and a half even w/ mom supporting u  
>  even if u did stop we both know it wont last  
>  it never does  
>  ur a drunk because u want to be a drunk deep down  
>  so u werent respecting me  
>  u just didnt care enough to check in  
>  know what?  
>  go drown urself in whisky because thats what u always do  
>  i dont care  
>  delete my # so u cant use drunk as an excuse anymore  
>  dont ever call me again  
>  go to hell dad

Numbly, Robert did it. He went to his contacts and hit delete, choking on his ragged breaths. Then he dropped the phone and got up, even if leaving the warmth and contact was the last thing he wanted to do. 

“Robert!” Damien had one hand stretched out towards him, and Robert almost turned back. But Damien was a good man, way too innocent for his own good, but _good_. Val was right. He was never gonna change. Changing meant actually hoping for the future, trying to build up instead of self-destroy. Too damn late for that. Way too fucking late. And he was just going to pull Damien down with him. 

Definitely time to go. 

“Robert,” A hand on his arm, Damien’s voice so soft and worried. “Where are you going?” 

“Liquor store. I guess I cleared out my house too soon. Time to see if a werewolf can get alcohol poisoning.” If he looked back, he’d stay. If he looked back, he’d only prolong things. He wasn’t gonna look back. 

“Robert!”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Joseph isn't going to admit it openly, but the werewolf cult really fucked him up. So please keep in mind the new tags I just added. Ed is a terrible man and nothing he did is excusable or anything but horrific, but he's also charismatic, and Joseph is failing pretty badly at reconciling those things. 
> 
> On the other hand, Joseph's behavior is also awful in this chapter, more so than it has been before.
> 
> On the other, other hand, Robert keeps making terrible decisions, and violence is one of the worse ones.

Robert had an idea. He stopped by the liquor store, but in between grabbing an armful of more bottles than he could technically safely carry and getting to the counter, something hit him. So in the end he’d bought a bottle of the cheap whiskey, and some wine for Mary and set off. Rationing out part of the bottle was barely enough to get him buzzed, but it was enough to give him the courage to do what he wanted and make the shaking ease off.

The church was mostly empty this time of the week, but Robert just _knew_ Joseph was in there. He’d never been inside, not really, but he could smell it, and the smell led him right to an office with “youth minister” on the door. 

Joseph had the gall to smile, getting up with arms open. “Robert! I’m so glad to see you. When you stayed away so long—“ 

Robert didn’t even want to hear it. He lunged, knocking Joseph back against the wall. Element of surprise, asshole. 

“What happens when the alpha dies? You can’t keep a hold on us, dammit. We’re gonna break free.” 

There was a struggle. Robert punched. Hit Joseph at least once. Got hit. Ran his shoulder into Joseph’s stomach— 

Joseph snarled, and suddenly it wasn’t a fight anymore. Joseph moved like some kind of karate master and Robert couldn’t pick out what he was doing, much less defend. A hit to the throat shoved Robert’s head back. Pain lit up along his bottom ribs, his shoulder, his—

The world spun and Robert ended up on his back, breathless and hurting and Joseph heavy on top of him. 

“I’m the alpha and you will respect that. Got it? I’m in charge!” 

Robert wasn’t going to give in. He struggled, but his wrist was in Joseph’s fingers, and his other arm was twisted under him, sparking agony with every breath. The weight trapping his thighs was probably Joseph. Didn’t matter. “No! I don’t belong to you!” 

“Wrong. You’re mine. Mary’s mine. I own you and you will fucking submit, wolf! Do you hear me? _Submit_!” 

Something was wrong. Joseph’s face, his tone, the damn _words_ he was using. This wasn’t the Joseph he’d come to know. 

Robert didn’t get a chance to respond, to think any more. There was a mouth on his, biting more than kissing, but not letting him get a word in. Fingers pulled his hair so hard it hurt, and Robert couldn’t pull away either. The heat, the weight, on him ground down, yanking a sound out of the center of his chest. It was bad (but his dick didn’t know better and that physical reaction made it worse). It was _wrong._

Joseph finally pulled back, breathing hard and sounding more vulnerable, but still not quite like himself. “Stop fighting me. Just submit, please. I don’t want to punish you.” 

“Or what? You’ll force me to submit with a fucking like a good dog?” He felt twisted, sick, heart beating so, so fast. “So much for saying you wouldn’t do this.” 

Joseph blinked then suddenly reeled back like he’d been burned, looking… terrified. He banged his head against his desk, and then was under it, knees pulled to his chest and arms wrapped around that. 

Robert scrambled back, brain finally connecting with his body to transmit the message that he was free. His sore shoulders banged against the corner. For a … he didn’t know how long, all Robert did was breathe. He’d been completely helpless, and it scared the shit out of him. How was Joseph so powerful? Was this what “alpha” meant? 

When he was less trapped inside his head and more aware of the room around him, Joseph was still breathing heard and fast, each breath jagged and shaking. Robert wanted to run. Wanted to go to Joseph and hold him close. It was tearing him apart. 

His hand was on Joseph’s knee; when had that happened? Robert swore under his breath, not knowing what else to do, but obviously this werewolf thing (whatever human decency he still had) was not letting him just leave the man like this.

But Robert didn’t know what to do. It looked like… a panic attack? Maybe? Joseph sure was inside his own head and not really aware of the outside world. So Robert did what came to him, muttering shit about breathing slowly and reciting his favorite ridiculous lines from the best of his movie collection. 

It started with a little laugh at one of the lines, and then Joseph was actually looking _at_ him, instead of through him. And then Joseph was burrowed into him, hands pressed flat against his chest but not holding on. A litany of “I’m sorry” tumbled out of his mouth.

Wanting to _be_ held, Robert realized, and his skin crawled with the memories of just a few minutes ago, but… 

But he was doing it anyway, responding to some unspoken thing that he was going to blame on being a werewolf. Being the one holding instead of being held (down) helped a bit, and Robert was at a loss of what else to do. 

Joseph suddenly speaking something other than the whispered apologies made Robert jump.

“Ed… He was a great alpha. He could make people submit with just a look, and everybody loved him. I love him. Just… He could do it with just a look, but he didn’t. Reminding us of our places, he called it. Not just when we got rebellious or made mistakes, but whenever the whim struck, I guess. I would try to be so good for him, I did. But I always felt terrible, sick after and…” Joseph took a jagged breath. “And when I made mistakes Ed made it hurt. I deserved it, of course—“

Robert couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Bullshit. Nobody deserves— Bullshit!” 

He wanted to say it was just beatings, but after what just happened, what Chris had said— God _damn_ , that Ed guy was a piece of work that deserved to be locked up for life or something. Death was too good for him.

Joseph just shook his head. “You don’t understand. But… I’ve read through the good book so many times and I don’t think that’s the _right_ kind of submission. I— The children were playing, Chris was about six at the time, and one of the older boys pushed him down and—“ The shudder hit Joseph hard. “It was just play. Nothing happened and they didn’t know better but for some reason I’d never felt more afraid. I took Rachel and the kids away with me that very night, but she hated the human world. It was all I could do to keep her from taking the kids back home when she abandoned me.”

Oh _god_. What the hell. What the _fuck_! Robert didn’t like the kid at all, but after hearing that he wanted to go riding out on a goddamned wolf hunt like some kind of avenging angel or shit like that. What kind of sick fucks condoned that kind of behavior? What kind of assholes let kids witness that kind of thing, even if it was consensual play (and it definitely didn’t sound that way at all)? What kind of special hell had Joseph grown up in? 

He didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry was trite. Swearing to get justice was stupid and impossible— “And you were raised with all this bullshit?” 

There was a little shake as Joseph voiced his denial. “No. Ed picked me out himself and brought me back home to turn me. I was about Chris’s age… I think? But once I was let out of the turning house, Ed named me and started training me. Rachel was born at home though, a proper wolf through and through. I don’t think she ever really liked being paired with a dog like me, but Ed thought we’d make good wolves together. I thought maybe she’d started to care about me when she left, but she was really just angry at Ed. She was so much stronger and better than Ed’s lieutenants, but Ed refused to promote a woman that far for some reason.”

There was just so much _wrong_ with that. Robert couldn’t even begin to unpack it. But something stuck out. “He named you?” 

Joseph nodded and pulled back a little finally. His brows creased. “His name was Nathaniel Peters, and he lived in north Boston once. I haven’t really spoken with Nathaniel’s parents in years. They keep trying to find Nathaniel inside of me and bring him back. I… I wish I could, for them, but Nathaniel is definitely died back in the turning house. So they send gifts and give the kids bonds for college, and postcards, and Mary takes the kids up to see them at least once a month. Nathaniel’s dad gave me the yacht when they found me. They were so happy and it hurt to tell them I wasn’t Nathaniel anymore. Things have been a little better between us, now that I have the good book to guide me again. It was always a comfort, but I had been a child and barely remembered anything. I’m so glad I was reintroduced to it.” 

“Uh…” Wow. The sharing actually made some things make more sense, but raised so many more questions. And… Robert ended up needing to move, so he pulled away from Joseph and started pacing. _Damn_ , their little fight had trashed the place. 

Joseph made a hurt little noise and stood up too. He wasn’t panicking anymore, at least, but he still looked so… so… Whatever it was, it hurt to look at. Finally Joseph sighed and put a hand to his head. “I’m sorry… I know I’m not as good an alpha as Ed was. I just can’t figure out how to encourage the right kind of submission, but I’m trying. There has to be a way to balance understanding and love with leadership, I know there has to.” 

That. Just… Robert wasn’t in any kind of state to take that apart. Joseph was just fucked up, and he really needed therapy or something, but already Robert could see some glaring problems with that idea. This was an entirely different kind of helplessness and Robert didn’t like it any better. So he did what he always did. He ran. 

“I just… I gotta go. So I’m walking out the door now. Bye.” 

Joseph didn’t stop him, and Robert didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the end of the first "act." In the next act, Dadsona will show up, and things will get tense. As a note, I'm going to be adjusting most of the dates into purely platonic hangouts. So Dadsona will get to know all the dads through the culminations of their mini-arcs, but he won't be _dating_ dating all of them. Due to the focus on Robert, most of it will by necessity happen offscreen, although I'll try to drop references to where Dadsona is in the process with the various side-characters.

When Robert walked through his door, Mary was sitting at his kitchen table with the bottle of wine he’d bought and his phone in front of her. She took a sip from her glass. “This vintage sucks. Also you scared the hell out of Damien this morning.” 

“Better that he knows I’m gonna let him down now than figuring it out after he gets attached.” Robert sat next to her, glanced at the cheap whiskey, _wanted it_ , and dropped his head to the table instead. 

Mary’s fingers combed through his hair but her words were sharp and bitter. “You still aren’t allowed to check out and die on me. How’d it go with Joseph?” 

“I tried to murder him. It wen’t pretty well, considering.” The way to avoid hurting was to make light of it, right? 

“So he kicked your ass effortlessly, went full on possessive creep, and then freaked out about it.” 

“Yeah. So is this Ed guy a real thing, or is Joseph cold blooded enough to play me by pretending to be traumatized?” Robert didn’t think it was a lie, but at this point, he’d trust Mary over Joseph. 

“The trauma is real,” Mary said, with careful precision, “but who knows how things actually played out. I don’t think even Joseph knows anymore. He’ll talk in glowing terms about Ed in one breath, and then about things that are probably torture if you can read between the lines the next. About the only fault he’ll admit is that Ed wasn’t very understanding or loving. What I think that really means is that Ed was an uncaring, vicious asshole that enjoyed hurting people. It’d fit better with the rest.” 

“Damn, he needs a therapist.” A lot more than that, probably, but Robert was sure of that much. 

Mary laughed. “I stopped trying to be that about the time he drove a woman to suicide. He didn’t even wait 2 months after we lost the first baby, and he was obsessed with the idea of her having his baby. Wanted the same name we’d picked out for mine, even. And you know what he had the nerve to tell me when I confronted him about it?”

“I already want to kill him; what’s one more offense?” God, he needed a drink. But he’d probably need it more tomorrow and he wasn’t going out again today. Nope. 

“He wanted another person for our family so I could rest and recover after the loss.” Mary sighed and poured herself another glass. “I know he was grieving. I can’t blame him for grieving, but at least me drinking myself to death doesn’t hurt other people.” 

Robert grimaced. “Mostly.” 

“Yeah, mostly.”

They sat in silence for a while, but Robert couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. If Joseph wasn’t lying, and Robert didn’t think he was, not intentionally, he’d been taken from Boston, and Boston wasn’t far away at all. Was this Ed guy still around? 

“So any idea where that commune is?”

Mary snorted. “Come on, you can’t still believe it’s a get-back-to-nature hippie thing, Robbie-boy. It’s a full on military camp. And… on state land somewhere? Joseph described it as a bunch of little stone and wood houses and tents hidden beneath the trees. No electricity, no running water. They kept goats, pigs, and a couple cows, hunted deer, and grew vegetables in the clearings. I know the cops went out to where he told them and never found any people, although ‘signs of long term squatting’ as they put it. I’m gonna guess they picked up and moved to avoid the cops. They were trained for that sort of shit, and Joseph is still terrified that they’ll come for him, or start taking over the state.” 

Robert raised an eyebrow. “Take over the state?” 

“That’s Ed’s goal, according to Joseph. Kill or turn every human in the state, and then once the new ones are trained, take over Vermont, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, then Maine and Connecticut, and so on.” Mary said it so casually, like it wasn’t the big deal that it really was. 

“Damn. So he’s still out there kidnapping and brainwashing kids, and making a goddamned army? How do people not know about this? Why aren’t the cops doing a damn thing?” 

“Dunno. Joseph identified a bunch of kids that’d gone missing as being there with him, some from as far away as Pittsburg, or Canada, and as far back as twenty or thirty years, using that age progression program to show what they’d look like now or whatever. He said once that he thought Ed’s group wasn’t the only one out there. I think the only reason they don’t already have a full army is because so many die during turning.” 

If that wasn’t the stuff of nightmares, nothing was. But what could Robert do? If the police hadn’t found them then how could he? But maybe he’d pay more attention to things when he went to the woods from now on. Just… _damn_.

“I need a drink.” 

Mary pushed his phone over towards him, and Robert didn’t take it. He didn’t want to think of the conversation with Val this morning. 

“You know, Dames thinks you can do it. Get sober and stay that way.” 

“What, me and not you? We both know I’m only gonna disappoint him.” Robert didn’t want to think of trying, really _trying_ , and then failing. He’d failed so many times before, when succeeding really _mattered_. 

“If I stop drinking, Joseph will notice the pills. The alcohol confuses the scent.” Mary gulped down the dregs of her glass. “Plus it’s nice not to feel things.” 

“Well, misery loves company.” Robert reached for the bottle.

* * *

Things got better, which meant terrible was coming. Robert got Hugo to give Betsy back, ignoring the pitying looks, and got back to the work he’d been putting off for over a month. Hadn’t missed any deadlines, thank god, but had to scramble to get out the rest of a dumb teen vampire novel. Ghostwriting wasn’t glamorous, but it payed okay, and he could write decent bullshit even drunk off his ass. And sometimes it sucked, not being given credit, but most of the stuff he wrote, he didn’t _want_ credit. Still, Robert made sure to give and acknowledge credit where it was due, whenever he could.

But Betsy and income weren’t the only good things. Damien started inviting him to dinner, and Robert started bringing over movies. Mary joined them whenever she could, and started bringing Crish along. It was weird at first, but cuddling (and sometimes passing the baby back and forth between them) became an easy thing, and the touch, the company made it easy…er to stay away from Joseph. Then a neighborhood BBQ weakened the resolve, and Robert stumbled on a way to avoid the worst (avoid spending the moon with the man). Sunday afternoon picnics were almost pleasant, and Joseph didn’t try to initiate sex again. In fact, he kept his distance, with guilty looks, which was more than fine with Robert, who still felt his skin crawl whenever Joseph was close. Why Christie suddenly decided Robert was her favorite, Robert didn’t know, but all in all… it was good. 

Damien asked questions that Robert wished he had, those first couple weeks, and apparently did research. He screamed along with Robert when the moon rose, but after a debate with Mary over how much vegetation wolf stomachs could handle, had thought ahead to bring a feast of different meats (Robert discovered that he liked it better raw when he was a wolf, but appreciated the thought) and a few vegetarian options that… neither of them ended up touching. Then they _played_ , running, chasing, leaping on each other. At some point they fell asleep as wolves, Robert’s gray and tan muzzle buried in Damien’s pitch black ruff. 

Changing back was heralded by a twisting tightness and sizzling stabs of pain through Robert’s spine, and probably Damien’s too. There was nothing but pain for a couple minutes (seconds? hours? …probably minutes), and then Robert rolled over and looked at Damien, who was curled on his side, panting. The good feeling was setting in and Robert thought nothing of taking the other man into his arms.

Damien shuddered, curled closer, and then laughed, delighted. “Did you see? I never expected— I was dreading a little, actually—“

He couldn’t seem to get it out, but Robert had a good idea. “You mean your wolf dick? Yeah, I saw. ‘m happy for you.” 

He buried his nose in Damien’s hair, loving the way the smell of him made everything feel pleasant and warm. He smelled… different. Robert couldn’t tell how, but different in a good way. 

“Felt good, like I fit. If you had asked me a month, no, even a week ago if I thought I would be comfortable in a body of a wolf I would have said certainly not, but I was.” There was a pause as Damien stretched then curled back against Robert. “And it wasn’t the ‘wolf dick’ as you so crudely put it. I felt sleek, powerful, handsome like… Oh goodness, am I a furry now?” 

“I dunno. Feel a sudden urge to fuck people wearing footie pajamas made out of fake fur and ridiculous animal helmets?” 

Robert couldn’t see it, but he could feel the face Damien made. “Ugh, heavens no.” 

“Then you’re safe from the infection. Don’t worry, Damien, I’ll put a silver bullet in you if you ever start feeling the signs. I won’t let you lose yourself to it.” 

They both laughed, and then silence fell, the good kind. Eventually, sounding kinda sleepy, Damien muttered. “Silver appears to be a false trail, by the way. I think I finally found a way into a private Facebook group dealing with werecreatures, not just wolves, it seems. I was awaiting approval when the time grew short. I’ll have to look into it further later…” 

And he was asleep. He looked good asleep, Robert mused. Relaxed. It would be so nice to be relaxed…


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dadsona is named Andrew Archer, because I'm a sucker for alliteration.

Routine was good. Routine was hell. Being around Joseph at any time was awkward at best, but he was behaving. Being around Mary was good, but Joseph kept on trying to keep her busy. Being around Damien and Lucien was great, and honestly, he probably would have practically moved in with them, if not for Lucien’s allergies, but Robert couldn’t help but feel that the other shoe was gonna drop. 

Moons came, moons went. Robert got good at being a wolf, could smell what felt like every little thing, and even took down a deer with Damien one night. He’d felt so full; it was great and left him energetic for a whole day after. Robert finally went a week, and then two, without cigarettes, and after a while, figured that maybe he’d actually kicked the addiction. Didn’t stop drinking, but started keeping fewer full bottles in his cupboards. It was progress, right?

Things like fliers for the local AA meetings, and business cards for the counseling office in town kept showing up in his mailbox, and Robert would have called Hugo on it, but he didn’t want questions on how he knew. (Hugo usually had different cheese smells spread (heh) over his own. Tended to make Robert hungry just thinking about it.)

Robert started jogging regularly, because the manic energy boost seemed determined to hit him every single month, and after some experimentation, exercise of the regular kind and not just during the burst helped. Craig had stopped giving him weird looks a while back, but they still hadn’t talked about Robert jumping on him. Robert was more than happy to avoid that talk forever. Damien joined him at least half the time, and it was good.

His new morning-person-ness led to one other change. Regular coffee trips. Robert could make passable swill in his ancient coffee maker, but he liked the taste of Mat’s better. So he tended to hang out there for his morning cup and people watch, after jogging (and it was still weird as hell that he was a jogger now), and somehow Mat got him talking about film scores once. He didn’t know how, but Robert had to admit that he’d left that day with a strangely good mood. 

Damien was having fun with his facebook groups and forums and the people he was talking to on them, although he didn’t share information if it wasn’t at least backed up by another source. Robert was tempted to call werecreatures other than wolves bullshit, but coyotes at least fit Damien’s standards for proof. Maybe they’d figure this out, because Mary had admitted she knew only what Joseph had told her, or she’d directly experienced. And since the scratch thing, who knew if they could trust what Joseph told her?

So it was good. Great even. Where the hell was that other shoe?

And they knew it had to be coming. To quote Mary: “Joseph has that squirrelly attitude lately, like he’s looking for someone to turn again.” The question was, who?

If he’d been a more superstitious person, Robert would have wondered if he’d somehow caused the new guy and his daughter to suddenly move into the house in the cul-de-sac that had been for sale for over a year. But it was the other shoe. That guy. That attractive, loving, great father…

He knew he was staring in the Coffee Spoon, and wasn’t at all surprised when Mary told him about the cookies and the planned BBQ on the weekend at Jim and Kim’s that evening. They both stared at each other for a long, quiet moment, downed their respective poisons and asked Neil for more practically in unison. 

Neil gave them a wary look, but got them both refills. And that was when _he_ walked in. The new neighbor seemed content to sip at a beer and watch the game, and Robert was sitting there on tenterhooks waiting for something, anything to happen. Then Mary clapped him on the shoulder and got up. Her face was smiling but her voice was unsure and she smelled like despair. “Let’s see if he’s Joseph’s type.” 

Robert tuned out Mary hitting on the guy, because he knew the end result. Mary got bored whenever her prey was “caught”, and inevitably released as soon as she did. When she walked back by him on the way to someone new, she muttered, softer than a whisper. Even if the bar wasn’t noisy, no one but Robert would have heard it. “Joseph is gonna just eat him up.” 

Well shit. Robert didn’t want this guy to suffer like they did. He didn’t want Mary to have to go through more pain and guilt over her inability to stop it. He had to do something, but what kind of something? 

The thought hit him that he could see if guy was easy to seduce, if it would take Joseph effort to get in the guy’s pants or not. He hoped no, but if he was Robert would get a lay out of it, and frankly he’d been desperate for one for a while now. It’d been long enough that he could control the urge to nip and bite, right? And as long as he was on top, Robert didn’t think he’d be leaving scratches. This was one of the worst ideas he’d ever had, but he was gonna go through with it anyway, because of course he was. Couldn’t have a real (gasp!) friendship forming with yet another person, could he?

The game was a good way to start, but Robert hated small talk, and after a little bit of chatter about which team was better (he picked the one that the guy wasn’t rooting for just to be contrary, of course) they subsided into silence again. Robert sipped his whiskey. The guy drank down his second beer. The game ended, and glasses were raised. 

Huh, another chance at it then? Robert motioned Neil over and then gave a tiny nod in guy’s direction. Neil clicked his tongue in apparent disappointment, but his expression said it was all in good fun as he muttered sotto voce just for Robert. “Gonna try your luck where Mary struck out, huh?”

Robert smirked as Neil poured out the shots. “We both know Mary wasn’t even trying that hard.” 

“That we do,” Neil said, and plopped the whiskey down on the counter for Robert to slide over.

The guy obviously didn’t do shots that often, but he was trying to look tough doing it. Cute. Joseph was gonna eat him _alive_. Introductions gave the guy a name (Andrew), and they chatted about Mary, and about Neil, and about shots, which poor Andrew still failed to take with any kind of grace. Then Andrew made a move that was in no way _not_ an awkward attempt at flirting. So Robert excused himself, winking at Neil as he went to “powder his nose” because Neil was a good guy and a damn good wingman. 

When he came back, Andrew looked impressed, and he smelled like nerves and confusion and want. Robert knew they were going to the same place, so he made an offer that was vague enough to not smack Andrew over the head with the situation, but would work in his favor. On the way home, they chatted about the cul-de-sac, and Robert threw indirect shade on Joseph a couple times, but it wasn’t a long enough walk to slip in further warnings.

When they got to his door, Robert made his move, and watched Andrew stutter and blush, all deer in headlights, but the smell of want overflowing. Want and nerves, and a scent Robert associated with knowing damn well something was bad, but desperate for it anyway. When Andrew got out a nod, inside they went, and Robert went for the kill shot. 

Andrew melted into the touch and kisses, pliant and desperate. Easy lay. Robert hated easy lays. But… Robert could see pretty well in the dark now, and Andrew’s expression was awed and flattered, with a warm fondness to it that suggested he… didn’t think this was what it was. Dammit. Now Robert wanted to call it off to protect Andrew from Robert’s fuck ups, from Andrew’s own gullible heart.

But in for a penny, in for a pound, and Robert’s dick was screaming for attention. This was a terrible decision and here he was not taking a chance to fix it, but Robert was great at finding those moments where he could screw up even more spectacularly. 

Then he heard it, full of stuttering, and broken in the middle by a moan. “I—I, uh. I don’t normally… do this…” 

Robert felt like the worst kind of asshole. Andrew was conflicted, and reading too much into this. His reluctance said no, but his scent said yes _please_ and… He wasn’t gonna pull a Joseph on this guy. Robert stepped back. 

“I should know better than to take advantage of an innocent guy like you.” 

“What?” Confusion reigned and Andrew reached out for him, following the contact in a way that made Robert’s heart ache. He’d felt that same desperate need for touch all too often. 

Robert ran his hands through his hair, feeling drunk on the scent of want more than the alcohol he’d had tonight. “Look. You’re drunk, and that’s one strike against me to begin with.” 

“You’re drunk too! I think.” 

Oh boy. “I’m drunk because I’m a goddamned alcoholic. I’m always drunk.” Robert didn’t like saying it, but it was true enough. It shut up the first protest, at least. “But I know what I’m doing right now, and I’m pretty damn sure you’re confused about what I’m offering here.” 

He picked up Andrew’s jacket and gently tucked it around the man’s shoulders, then started coaxing him back down the stairs. Andrew was resistant, but drunk enough that he couldn’t really resist the pull without falling on his face. 

“Here’s the deal,” Robert didn’t bother to close his door behind him as talking and escorting was taking too much concentration, “you go home, dry out a bit, and if you still want casual sex with me when it’s light out and you’re hungover, well, I’m not the kind of guy to say no to that. If you do some soul searching and realize you’re looking for a connection… I’m the worst kind of guy for that, and you’ll probably fail, but trying is your prerogative.” 

They were at Andrew’s door now, and he stood blinking owlishly, but not resisting anymore. “Thank you? …I think?” 

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m not the only asshole in this cul-de-sac who’s a big bad wolf and will ruin you given the chance, red.” Robert was walking away now, before his resolve failed him.

“But you’re the one wearing red!” That was a little put out, but resigned, and a minute later Robert heard a door click shut. 

Robert got to his door, and the loneliness was crushing enough that he just checked to make sure Betsy had food and water, and her new doggy door wasn’t blocked before locking up and going to knock on Damien’s door. Lucien answered, gave him an unimpressed look over, and then sighed. “Dad’s upstairs.” 

Damien was in his fancy nightclothes, waiting by his bedroom door when Robert got up. “Oh Robert, what’s wrong?” 

“Joseph is gonna _devour_ the new guy; he’s so desperate for companionship that he won’t be able to resist. And I don’t know how to stop it.” 

“Don’t worry about that right now. We’ll come up with a plan given some time.” He gave Robert a hug, and then pushed him towards the bathroom. “You can borrow one of my nightshirts after you wash up. A peaceful rest will do you good.”

Yeah, it probably would. How was Damien one of the best things to happen in his life?


	14. Chapter 14

The BBQ was a special hell for Robert. During the pre-party set up that Mary had asked him to help out with, Joseph had apparently rationalized away the guilt or something recently and was finding every opportunity to brush up against him, and even whispered about dessert with the kids after the other families left. Yeah no. So avoiding Joseph it was, which gave Brian an opportunity to waylay him when other people finally arrived. Robert didn’t dislike Brian, and he sure did own his pride over his daughter’s accomplishments, but having to sit through it with nothing to offer in turn sucked. 

Andrew wandered over, and Robert spun a tale about a terrible camping trip, which successfully killed the conversation before the other man could bring up their failed one night stand, but the expression on Andrew’s face said that wasn’t gonna last. Robert would have hoped that Andrew had more sense to air it in public, but his scent was full of confusion, and determination, and a thread of want. Then the kids, Brian’s girl, and Andrew’s older daughter, derailed the conversation even more thoroughly, and Robert made a quick escape. He couldn’t find Mary, because she was on the move, and as her lawn, her scent was pretty much everywhere to begin with. 

He ended up tracking Damien instead, who was radiating discomfort and Joseph was far too close to him for Robert’s peace of mind. He didn’t have to be close to overhear, thanks to wolf hearing. 

“I’m so sorry. If I’d known I would have reached out to help you sooner. That was a despicable thing of him to do.” Joseph, saccharine and full of false comfort. 

Damien, uncomfortable but not quailing, voice steady. “On the contrary, I find a simple accident to be far less despicable than a planned assault. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

So Joseph had figured it out, shit. Robert didn’t know if there was any damage control that he could do, but—

And there was Andrew, and Joseph smoothly switched whatever he was saying into talking about Damien’s house. Robert didn’t want to try his chances with Andrew but he had to do something to help Damien make an escape. 

“I can smell you from across the yard,” Mary sauntered up, wine glass in one hand, and Crish balanced against her hip. The baby, now definitely in toddlerhood, waved at Robert and reached towards him. Mary ignored the motions for a moment. “What’s up?” 

“Pretty sure Joseph figured it out.” Robert jerked his head towards Damien. 

Mary sighed. “Pretty sure he figured it out a couple parties ago, but Damien’s usually better at avoiding him. Alright, here’s our plan. I’ll run a delaying mission with the twins, and you get ahold of Lucien to go do the extraction. Here, take this.” 

Crish was happy to be transferred over. Robert had to set his drink down fast in order to keep from dropping the squirmy kid. He wanted to argue being left alone with Crish, but he had an idea of what Mary had planned. Finding Lucien was easy enough and all Robert had to do was nod his head towards where Damien was to get Lucien to go off like a shot. 

Then all that was left was to watch Crish while Mary and Lucien dealt with things. Robert snatched a ball from one of the kids, ignoring the complaint, and went to sit down in the shade. He set Crish on his tiny feet and rolled the ball just a little bit. Crish knew this game and was delighted to go pick it up and throw it back at Robert’s head, surprisingly well for a toddler. Good thing he wasn’t very drunk yet, so catching it wasn’t too hard. Once he’d caught it, Robert rolled it again. Crish made an almost barking sound to express his happiness and picked it up again.

The game continued, but at this time in the afternoon, Robert knew Crish usually crashed for a nap. Sure enough, after a few throws he toddled over and plopped himself in Robert’s lap. 

“Mama?”

Robert could tell that there was a question there. “She’s gonna come find us soon, Kiddo.” 

Crish bobbed his head, imitating the nods he saw Robert and Mary exchange often enough, and then shoved his dirty thumb in his mouth. Yep, Robert was definitely stuck here for a while. He sighed, planted a kiss on Crish’s head and settled back. It wasn’t so bad, but he missed his drink. 

“Wow… I didn’t expect to find a softer side to you so soon.” 

Shit! Andrew. Robert tensed, and Crish wailed once, quick and sharp, before curling into Robert and hiding his face. Dammit. 

“Thank you so much for startling the kid, pal.” Robert could have put more venom in it, but he was busy tucking his jacket around Crish, who found it soothing for some reason, and then rubbing the kid’s back. 

Andrew kept his distance, perhaps wisely, because Robert had no idea how Crish would respond to a threat. And Andrew _was_ a threat right now. Robert was filled with the urge to snap and snarl and drive Andrew away from his— from Crish. 

“Sorry.” Sincere, but awkward, and did he know he was staring? “I didn’t know you had a baby with you. Do I want to know why you have Mary’s baby with you?” 

Know what? Robert wasn’t gonna resist, even if it kind of hit too close to home at the same time. “Baby’s mine. Mary and I have been making a cuckold of Joseph for years, and he’s too invested in his perfect public image to out us for it.”

Andrew’s mouth dropped open and he stammered. Robert couldn’t help laughing. “I’m kidding. But I’ll let you in on a cul-de-sac secret, I’m the best babysitter in town.” 

“I’m not sure I believe that one either. I mean, you’re obviously great with uh, Crish? Why do all of them have such similar names? Was that really necessary? But I see zero evidence of other babysitting activities.” 

Robert shrugged. “I was kidding about that too. Just doing a favor for Mary.” 

“Oh. Um. Okay. Anyway, I just wanted to talk to you about the other night—“ 

“Not in front of innocent ears. Jesus, man, think of the children.” And Robert was proud of holding the scandalized expression through the whole thing, but Crish fussed at the hand over his ear. Robert tickled Crish instead, getting a happy giggle. 

Andrew sighed. “You’re not going to let this discussion happen, are you?” 

“Not here.” Robert rapped his knuckles on the wall he was sitting against. “The wolves have ears.” 

“Don’t… you mean walls?” 

“Nope! Remind me to tell you about the Dover Ghosts sometime.” 

With a confused twist to his expression, Andrew started to say something, but apparently thought better of it. With slumped shoulders, he turned, and Robert watched him go. 

He couldn’t keep dropping hints like this. They definitely needed a better plan to keep him away from Joseph.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Votes were tied, so I flipped a coin and Hyena won! Who is the mysterious werehyena? Stick around to find out!

Next morning he had a Dadbook message from Andrew. Robert read it over coffee, and then proceeded to ignore it completely while he chatted with Mat about some band Robert had never heard of but… was actually pretty decent, if the record Mat had going was representative of their work. Huh, he’d have to check it out. Betsy liked music. So he thanked Mat for the coffee and the tip and headed out. 

There was food to buy (and damn his grocery bill had skyrocketed recently) and then Robert sat down with his second glass of whiskey and got to work. This project was actually something he was _interested_ in, for once. Only _The_ biggest name in Bigfoot hunters wanted to put out a book on the subject, but couldn’t write to save his life. Researching was fun, so time flew, and by late afternoon, Robert had an outline all ready to go. 

He was standing by his window, nursing his fourth whiskey when he saw Andrew and his daughter pulling out of their drive. Father-daughter bonding, huh? Guy was a good dad. They needed to save him from Joseph. So Robert texted Mary, calling a meeting to save the guy. 

It started with dinner at Damien’s place, where Damien had admitted finally that he couldn’t go completely vegetarian even in between the moons anymore. Robert felt bad for him, but he’d noticed his intestines rebelling against more than a tiny bit of bread and shit. Vegetables weren’t so bad, but could still pack a very unpleasant punch to the gut if he wasn’t careful. 

Discussion centered mostly around how Joseph definitely knew about Damien now, and how Damien had felt so uncomfortable and insulted at Joseph’s insinuations and ‘courting’ as Damien put it. But aside from complaining about Joseph, there wasn’t anything they could do about that, and they could still save the new neighbor, probably. Mary mentioned how Joseph was talking about roping Andrew into the church bake sale, which wasn’t a bad thing on its own, but Robert knew well that baking with the kids would only cast Joseph in the best of lights. 

They had no ideas. Zip. Nada. Everything from just telling Andrew flat out, to arranging hang-outs when Joseph wanted to pounce was just not working. Actually, the latter could work, but they’d need an in to Andrew’s Dadbook, or Mary had to get Joseph to talk about his plans. Neither looked particularly promising. But they could keep the man busy in hopes that he’d choose them over Joseph, and Damien had already been a little charmed and wanted to know more. 

So that was how Robert ended up messaging Andrew back late at night and telling him to get his ass down to Jim and Kim’s. Mary went with him for moral support, and they were both a few drinks into the festivities once Andrew arrived. Andrew gave them a leery stare and Robert remembered the party. He threw an arm around Mary’s shoulders and grinned, making Mary roll her eyes, but she snuggled into his side happily. 

“What _did_ you tell the man, Robert? He’s giving us looks.” She laughed, drunk enough to forget about her unhappiness for a minute. 

“The usual, that we’d made Joseph into a cuckold and were causing him eternal distress because he couldn’t keep up his image if he exposed us.” 

Andrew blushed and ducked his head guiltily and Mary cooed at them both, but mostly at Robert. “How sweet! I wish. Oh how I wish. Your drunk ass would make a better husband than he’ll ever be.”

Robert grinned. “I’ll take that as the compliment it’s meant to be. Time for another round!” 

Andrew kept up through two rounds, and even followed them to Irish I Were Drinking (the bartender gave them dirty looks but the ban was technically over). He looked like a puppy that had been kicked, but had nowhere else to go, and was getting more and more nervous about something. 

Finally he did something about it though, even if he did it by asking Mary to go get another round instead of being honest about it. Mary patted Robert on the shoulder and went over to chase some of the young men in the bar. Maybe one of them would run tonight. 

Andrew was staring into his glass, and bit his lip before starting to talk. “About that night…” 

“Sure you’re sober enough to talk about it?” Yes, Robert was avoiding things. No, he didn’t care.

That got Andrew to look up. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I’ve been sober then, so yeah.” He took a breath. “I guess I can kinda appreciate it, but I don’t get _why_. You started it, and you talked like you were into casual… stuff. So why stop?” 

What should he say? Bullshitting was always the first answer. “You were too damn pure for me, Prince Charming. A wicked old guy like me can’t stomach that much sweetness and light.” 

Andrew groaned. “No joking this time, please.” 

“Fine.” Robert downed the rest of his shot, grunting against the tightness of his throat. “Part of it _is_ that you’re all innocent and earnest. There’s a predator running around Maple Bay that has guys like you for dinner. He got me too once, and I’ve still got the scars from it. That night, I was thinking that if I got to you first, that asshole would decide you weren’t worth it, but when push came to shove I couldn’t go through with it.” 

The incredulous look continued for a few long moments and then Andrew sighed. “I’m pretty sure that that’s even more bullshit, but if you aren’t going to open up with me, I can’t make you.” 

Alright, Robert was done, but the longer he kept Andrew busy, the less likely Joseph could get him to do anything in daylight. Hangovers were good for things like that. So he got up and jerked his head at the door. “I’m moving on; you in?” 

He didn’t expect a yes at this point. So it was a surprise when Andrew hesitated, but eventually nodded. It turned into an adventure involving wine, and rocks, sneaking into a shit movie, and challenging the little prick to a duel. Robert… had a lot of fun, and it seemed like Andrew did too. So he dropped the guy off at his house, saying that he wouldn’t mind hanging out again. And damn him, Robert really wouldn’t mind hanging out with Andrew again.

* * *

Andrew didn’t message him again for a couple days, but word on the street (listening to Mary and Damien, really) said he was hanging out with the other families. Damien gushed about Andrew touring his garden and how understanding he’d been when Lucien pulled his latest stunt (damn good stunt too), and while Robert was out enjoying the woods, Andrew and Craig came across him and tried to give him a damn interrogation about a capybara. Robert knew where it was the whole time, but until they dropped info about the twins in his lap, didn’t know how to tell them without spilling the secret of his senses. Even with that, Robert was sure Andrew knew something was up, but River was adorable, and Robert could admit to himself that she already had him wrapped around her tiny fingers. 

Then the message came, and Robert ignored it for most of the day, but Damein was busy, and Mary was busy and Robert was feeling alone. So he patted Betsy on the head and went out to bug Andrew into joining him for a hunt near his lookout spot. Or a whittling session, whichever happened first. 

It turned out really pleasant, for the most part. Andrew cut himself on Robert’s spare knife, but came up with some pretty nice pieces for an amateur. Then they talked about cryptids and Robert made up some bullshit about the Dover Ghosts, using the plural for a damn good reason. And if he was describing werewolves when he talked about it, Robert had a good reason for that too. 

Then something _definitely_ not human or werewolf made the creepiest noise, and loud too. It was upwind so Robert couldn’t smell it, but in the moonlight he could see something werewolf-sized and furry, but it moved wrong, and holy hell, did it have huge teeth. Was it a bear? It didn’t look like any of the bears Robert had seen, or move like one. Or sound like them. And then it turned right towards them like it knew they were there and its eyes gleamed in the moonlight.

Robert wasn’t going to admit he was as spooked as Andrew, and he was more than happy to hightail it out of there and not stop until they got to their doorsteps.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Robert somehow manages an even worse decision than usual and discovers something new about the werewolf condition.

Saturday started out with a text from Mary saying that Andrew had fallen for Joseph’s bait. The bake sale was scheduled to start in a couple hours, and against his better judgement, Robert went. To…supervise. 

In reality he hung out around Mary and Christie, (and Christian who stayed very still and quiet, which was more disturbing than the creepy twin thing) for most of the day. Christie was more thrilled to see him than Robert thought she should be, but Robert admitted that he was warming up to her and her twin brother, and chasing her around (and getting chased and tackled a few times) burned some energy off nicely. But he was putting off what he was here for, so he finally stopped by the brownie booth that Joseph and Andrew were manning when things were mostly over, slightly impressed to see Craig having been conned into brownies. 

Joseph flashed a bright smile Robert’s way and invited him to buy some. Robert ignored him to chat with Andrew. He was midway through asking if Andrew wanted to go hunting with him again when Joseph interrupted. “We’re here to sell delicious baked goods for the glory of the Heavenly Father, and I’m sure you can arrange personal rendezvous at another time.” 

Robert answered with a shrug, and started to ask again. Andrew was looking back and forth between them, increasingly uncomfortable. 

Joseph frowned a pretty little frown. “Robert, are you drunk again? I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave; it sets such a poor example for the children.”

Robert ignored him and Joseph stood up. “Robert, I care for you, as a minister and as a friend, I truly do, but you’ve refused my every offer of help, and if your insistence on destroying yourself is going to hurt others, and it _will_ , I insist that you leave. If you don’t I’ll be forced to call the authorities.” 

Robert looked at Joseph, smelled the frustration behind the placid expression, and decided to cut his losses. An encounter with the police wouldn’t do him any favors. He told Andrew to message him if he wanted and then wandered off church property. 

He didn’t quite leave, though. Mary stalked over less than a minute later, sighing heavily. “Struck out, huh? Alright, I’ll see what I can do. Hold down the perimeter in case they try to escape.” 

“Roger!” And Robert could do that; he did do that. Watching the parking lot seemed like a good idea, and sure enough, a while later, he saw Andrew and Joseph coming out with empty platters and a half-asleep Christie. He was upwind so he wasn’t worried about Joseph smelling his presence, but he was also too far to hear with any clarity what they were talking about. Then Andrew started jogging back towards the grounds while Joseph got into the car. Huh.

_Then_ Andrew loped around, ducked behind some other cars, and came right for him. He was glaring but he smelled like confusion. “What _was_ that, Robert? Why do you dislike Joseph so much? He seems like a really nice guy and a great dad.” 

“Ever thought that maybe you’ve only seen his public face? Great dad I’ll give you, but I’ve seen the monster behind the minister. He’s a fucking terrible husband, and you’ve spent enough time with Mary by now to figure that out, so why are you buying his perfect life crap?”

Andrew looked away, shifting uncomfortably. “From where I’m standing at least half the fault is hers.” He paused, biting at his lip. “And yours too, maybe. I mean, I’m not accusing you two of actually sleeping together behind his back, but there’s emotional infidelity too and…” 

Robert could only laugh. “You know what? Guilty as charged. If Joseph would just let her have a divorce, we’d probably be together, Mary and I. Thing is, I’ve slept with that asshole more times than I’ve slept with Mary, because if I have something good in my life I have to destroy it. Mary’s a damn saint for forgiving me, and I regret every damn second I listened to his bullshit.” 

Robert knew his grin would fit an agonized corpse better, and that it was too full of teeth. He was just so _angry_ and hurting and helpless and— A familiar tight twisting ripped up his spine all of a sudden. What the hell? Full moon wasn’t— He needed out of here. 

Andrew called out to him, but fuck. All Robert could do was snarl over his shoulder. “Know what? Maybe you shouldn’t message me. I’ll just destroy you too. Stay away from me, Andrew!” 

Fear spurred him into a sprint, and the closest place was the park. He made it to the edge of the little wooded area before the pain started ripping through him too much to continue on his feet. He crawled a little further in, managing to struggle his jeans and underwear down his thighs and mostly get his shirt and jacket off. Then his bones were breaking inside of him, reforming just like every time, and no amount of willpower could stop him from screaming while the change tore through him. 

The good feeling didn’t quite hit for some reason, leaving Robert with a terrible ache all through him. He wriggled, pawing at his half-off clothes, and then flopped on his side a few feet away, panting. 

Voices. Children’s voices. Robert struggled to his paws, knowing he needed to get away from the edge, but his legs shook and hurt and he toppled over far too soon. It wouldn’t be hard at all to stumble on him and— shit. 

“I think it was screaming. A man, maybe?” That was Brain’s daughter, Daisy, and she sounded worried. Good kid. 

“Ooh! We can work with this. I bet it’s probably the ghost of a guy who froze to death out on this icy tundra! Whoo, jackpot!” And Andrew’s daughter walking backward to face Daisy and playing pretend again, apparently. If Robert wasn’t in such bad condition he could definitely approve of Long Haul Ice Road Paranormal Ghost Truckers as the thematic influence there. Good show.

And Daisy was staring at him, mouth open. “A wolf…?” 

“That’s even better! Stranded in the icy tundra, a lone trucker finds himself surrounded by a pack of vicious wolves when he’s trying to gather fuel for a fire and even though he struggles mightily—“ Amanda, that was her name, was really into this. She’d be a damn good writer if she put her mind to it. Maybe he’d suggest it, next time… but there wouldn’t be a next time.

“No… Um, I’m not playing anymore. There’s a wolf, right here.” Daisy took a step back, uncertain, and then yelped as she tripped over a log. “Daaaaad!” 

Amanda turns around and started swearing to do a soldier proud, getting in front of Daisy protectively as she did so. Good instincts, but Robert couldn’t truly appreciate them because yup, Brian and his dog were coming up through the young trees. Dammit. 

“Daisy, what happened?” Brian was a good dad, all worried for his daughter, and didn’t even notice until Daisy pointed with the hand she wasn’t cradling to her chest. “Oh my, that’s a big— Maxwell, don’t! Come here, boy.” 

But the Corgi didn’t listen, and all Robert could do was curl up and whine under the assault of doggy licks. Nice dog, and he appreciated the sympathy, really, but could they not right now?

Suddenly Brain was kneeling right in front of him. “You know, I think this is the wolfdog Hugo and Damien found all those months ago and somehow escaped the shelter. He looks in pretty rough shape. Hey, buddy. I’m friendly. I just want to help, okay?” 

Brian’s hand was down by his muzzle, giving him a better chance to sniff. Not a bad idea, or considering that he could have been a wild animal, maybe a terrible one. Did nobody in town have any sense about potentially wild and injured animals? Robert licked the back of his hand once anyway and then laid his head back down. Breathing kinda hurt a little, and he didn’t know why. Also why was he smelling blood? Sometimes there was a little after he changed, bleeding a little too fast for skin and muscle to regrow over the splits, but this was…

“He’s starving, just look at his ribs. Poor boy. Looks like something cut up his back and one of his hind legs good too. Alright, let’s see…” 

Brain was still talking, and Robert missed the movement. When a hand pressed down on his chest, he yelped because that _hurt_ but didn’t even make it to his feet to get away from it.

“Easy, easy… We’ll get you some help.” Then Brian stood up, addressing the girls. “I’m not sure about picking him up, because I think at least one of his ribs is broken. Wonder if he got hit by a car or something? But we’ve got that cargo netting for the back of our SUV; Daisy, can you go get it for me? Amanda, help me look for some sturdy, straight branches. I think we can jury rig a stretcher. Maybe he’ll be a good boy and actually stay at the shelter this time.” 

“And maybe I can talk my dad into adopting him. A wolfdog is so cool.” Amanda looked so enthusiastic, but god, Robert hoped not. Then she bit her lip. “Do you think he’s gonna be okay?” 

“If we get him to the shelter and he gets some food and TLC he should be alright, I think.” 

Amanda pumped her fist in the air. “Alright. Stretcher time! I’ll go this way, you go that way?” 

Brian laughed. “Sounds good to me.” 

But she was heading towards where his clothes were. Shit, shit, shit. His attempt to get to his feet ended about as well as the last time, but at least it got their attention. Amanda had her hands on her hips. She looked at Brian. “Maybe I should stay with him, make sure he can’t escape.” 

“I doubt he’ll get far, but it’s not a bad idea. I can handle getting the branches myself.” Brian smiled at Amanda, as she sat herself by Robert’s head, and Robert resigned himself to the ear scratches. 

Amanda started talking conversationally. “I’m sure I can make my dad like you, you know. He’s a sucker for a good dog, and he’s gonna need someone around when I go to college. And you look so wolfy; that’s pretty sweet. Ooh, I’ve got it! We should call you Buck. You know, after the Call of the Wild. I mean, White Fang is probably closer, but that’s a mouthful, so Buck it should be! I wonder how much the adoption fee is; I bet I have enough on hand.” 

Felt kind of nice even with the chatter, and he didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes and until he heard approaching footsteps. A few seconds later he felt more than saw Daisy sit down and start gingerly running her hands through his fur. One of her hands snagged on something at his back and he jerked and whined. And of course Daisy had to investigate. Robert felt her parting the fur and prodding a little. 

“It’s like a rip,” Daisy said softly while Robert was feeling her palms against his skin a bit, “like it was being pulled in different directions. What do you think happened, Amanda?”

“Dunno, but we’re gonna help him get better. Promise!” A second later, Amanda was up, and then Daisy’s hands left his fur. Brian was back, but they were talking about the stretcher so Robert tuned out what they were saying. 

Until— “Shouldn’t we get a couple cross pieces to keep it from closing together around him? I’ll do it!” 

And Amanda was scampering off, towards where his clothes were and shit— 

Nothing he could do, not with how his legs were refusing to work properly, so he waited, finding himself panting from… what, the stress of it? He could believe it. 

Footsteps crunching in last year’s leaf litter heralded Amanda’s return, and she had a couple sturdy looking branches in her arms. And his shirt and jacket. Oh _damn_. 

“What’s that there? Is that… Robert’s?” Brian sounded way louder than he should, but Robert suspected it was because he wanted to hide from this. 

Amanda’s tone was grim but her scent carried confusion. “Yeah, I think? I found it under a bush. There’s blood on it.” 

“Maybe it’s a clue,” Daisy piped up, sounding a little scared. “Do you think we should keep it for evidence?” 

“Maybe…” But Brian sounded distracted, and a minute later Robert was picked up and god _damn_ his chest and leg protested. He yelped and squirmed but was put down on stretchy netting a second later. 

He expected it to pull up around him but no, the pieces tied to the longer ones kept him from sinking in too much. Smart girl, that Amanda. It took no time before he was put into the back of a vehicle, and Robert didn’t remember anything else. 

But he did wake up to familiar scents. The shelter, and Damien. 

“Rob—bie? Oh goodness, what happened to him?” 

The slip made Robert want to wince as he was put down on something cold and metal. Damien’s hands in his fur felt so nice, and finally Robert felt some of the ache fade. He still hurt, but it wasn’t so oppressive, and Robert felt that if he needed to, maybe he could stand up and move.

But Amanda was still there, and she had his jacket and shirt. She was frowning at Damien though. “Uh, wow, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Yes, well,” Damien started nervously, “I’m afraid my accustomed attire is entirely inappropriate to the setting, but I wouldn’t think of giving less than my best to the animals here, hence the simpler outfit.”

Brian hummed something wordless. “Robbie? Will he be alright?” 

Damien was still much too flustered to pull off a good lie. “Mary’s idea, I assure you. I believe she thought it appropriate because of where he was found the first time. And it doesn’t look life threatening, but luckily, our on-call veterinarian is available right now. Thank you all so much for bringing him in.” 

Amanda was staring off into the distance, and then put his jacket down next to his head. “I want to pet all the puppies! Can I pet the puppies?” 

Well at least she hadn’t spilled the beans, although Robert figured they needed to do damage control and fast. But it didn’t matter anymore, since Damien was escorting the girls and Brian to the back. Robert knew he must have dozed, because he woke next to several strangers, feeling weirdly fuzzy. 

They were talking about stress fractures in his ribs, back leg, and shoulders, but the smell of blood was a replaced by soap, so he must have been washed down. 

He was put in a cage with kibble and water shortly after that and Damien sat down on the other side. There was a padlock this time, he noticed. 

“Robert, what even happened, my friend? How did you change when it’s not anywhere near the moon? Oh how I wish you could talk about this…” 

Robert managed to get close enough to nudge Damien through the mesh, and the other man sighed. But he didn’t stay long, leaving with a promise to spring him later.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Saul Graves makes an appearance.

Robert slept, and woke up still wolf-shaped, without even a twinge or tightness through his back. Damien’s fingers found the fluffy fur at the base of his ears a second later, signaling why he’d woken, and Robert followed Damien quietly out of the shelter. His leg radiated pain with each step, and his ribs hurt, but otherwise he felt better than he had earlier. 

Damien took him home and pulled out his laptop. Robert still hadn’t felt any sign of changing, so after eating a whole bargain package of chicken as daintily as he could, he climbed up next to the other man, putting his head on Damien’s lap. Betsy curled happily between his legs and belly, and Robert was comfortable, but confused. 

Damien was on his Facebook page, typing away. “I’ll figure out what happened, I promise. I fear that my questions might be getting on the nerves of some, but the answers have all checked out so far.” 

Without a way to talk back, Robert just huffed and closed his eyes. Damien’s typing was almost soothing, and the little ruffles through his fur were even better. How long they sat there, Robert lost track of, but then Damien made a concerned noise. 

When Robert lifted his head, Damien was staring hard at what Robert recognized as a Facebook private message.

> Saul G.  
> I know this might seem like prying, but at this point I have to ask. Is your pack treating you okay?

Damien bit his lip, typing and deleting a response repeatedly. “I’m not sure how to answer that, honestly. This man has been one of the more forthcoming members of the group, but I don’t want to reveal too much. On the other hand, I suppose directly alienating a potential source would be foolish of me.”

> D. Allen B.  
> I’m fine, I assure you, but why do you ask?
> 
> Saul G.  
> Facebook isn’t really the best place for questions. Most of us just use the group to chat with each other without worrying too much about someone hearing things they shouldn’t. Most of the things you’ve been asking, your pack should have covered when you were adopted. 
> 
> D. Allen B.  
> Adopted?
> 
> Saul G.  
> Right. Sorry. Your pack uses turned for it, don’t they? There as many words for it as packs out there, but I tend to fall back on adopted, because that’s what my wife always called it. Anyway, if you and your pack aren’t communicating, it’s a little worrying, you know?

Damien breathed out a harsh breath and turned to Robert. “Oh dear, what should I do? I’m not sure it would be wise to detail our situation, and yet, if I could get this man to explain more about why you’re stuck like this it would be very helpful.”

His fingers hovered over the keys, and Robert mostly just wanted to have hands and the ability to talk again, so he nudged. After a ‘you think so?’ Damien went back to the keys.

> D. Allen B.   
> I would like to think that we communicate quite well, but a recent incident with our alpha convinced us that perhaps he is either withholding things, or misinformed himself. I volunteered to reach out online and fact check with others.
> 
> Saul G.  
> What incident? And you know that the Conclave can help you fill in any gaps in what you know, or find research and histories so you can connect to our culture, right? Why not go to them? 
> 
> D. Allen B.  
> I’m not sure I feel comfortable answering the first question, given our short time of acquaintance. But I must admit being intrigued at your mention of this Conclave. Who are they and how might I contact them?
> 
> Saul G.  
> Okay, now I know something’s up. I’m not accusing you of anything, but “alpha” is mostly used by the worst kind of assholes these days. The more I talk to you, the more I think you got stuck with the short end of the stick, here. To hear that you don’t know about the Conclave on top of it says some really bad things about your “alpha.” I’m going to ask it straight: Is he abusive?

Robert was sitting up now, and stuck his nose against Damien’s cheek, because he was smelling of stress and worry. Damien put the laptop on the coffee table and hugged him. Alright. Not talking sucked, and Robert thought he could fix that. Reluctantly he pulled away from Damien, who stared at him in confusion as he got a pen in his mouth. When Damien realized what Robert was doing with it, he reached out with a protest, but Robert put his ears back and kept stubbornly poking the end of the pen at the keys.

“That is a brilliant idea, Robert, but are you sure…?” Damien smiled just faintly. “But then, I suppose you wouldn’t go to the trouble if you weren’t. Please do try not to alienate him though?”

> D. Allen B.  
> y but non og ur biz   
> in stuk wo;f n u pset d  
> how d i chang bac

It was practically unreadable, but Robert hoped it got the point across. Damien sighed again, somewhere between fond and exasperated. “Well, you tried, I suppose.”

The laptop chimed with a message received.

> Saul G.  
> What?
> 
> D. Allen B.  
> My apologies. I put the computer down for a moment and my packmate decided to take things into his own hands, as it were. I’m surprised he managed that so quickly with a pen in his mouth. As you can guess, my particular question this evening had a reason, and I would be very grateful to receive an answer. 
> 
> Saul G.  
> I know a change in topic when I see one, but fine. I really can’t drop this, but I’ll shelve it for later. The simple answer to your question is yes. We can change in between our cycles, but changing too much can knock you flat or result in unhealed injuries, so it’s wise to be sparing. Someone recently turned probably isn’t going to manage to intentionally change for a while, but if they have a particularly strong emotional reaction to something, especially anger or fear, it can trigger a spontaneous change. Changing back is trickier, and it’s best to wait a few hours before trying. Supposedly it’s easier after a break because your body remembers its base form or something and won’t be as tired. I don’t know if that’s true, but I do know you have to look for the change, and the pain that comes with it, and want it bad enough to hold on. It took me a lot of tries to get it when my wife was teaching me, and it’s never fun, but there you go. 
> 
> D. Allen B.  
> Thank you ever so much, Saul. I’m certain this will solve our little predicament. I also apologize for dragging you into our drama even tangentially. While I appreciate the concern, I do believe it best if I don’t share further details.
> 
> Saul G.  
> It’s my job to do this, D., so don’t apologize. I want to help, and I’m not afraid of getting dragged into messes. I know I can’t force you to let me help, but please consider it. 
> 
> D. Allen B  
> I appreciate it, and perhaps someday I might accept that help, but for now, I can’t. I do enjoy talking with you though, and hope that I’ve not made you think too poorly on my behavior. Still, I must take my leave of this conversation. Farewell. 

Damien promptly shut the laptop off, and Robert was already on the floor. It was hard as hell, because his heart was pounding, and even the thought of the pain made him want to flinch. Then Damien’s fingers wove through his fur, and “I believe in you” was… nice to hear.

Robert tried again, trying to remember how it felt to have his body twist back to human. How his spine felt squeezed and almost snapping and—

He yelped and the feeling dissipated. Damn. But Damien had such a hopeful expression so he tried again. 

And again. 

Again—

He ended up naked and shaking on the carpet, feeling like he’d broken the rest of his ribs, or gotten run over by a truck. Whichever. Damien’s arms went around him, and Robert returned the hug even though it _hurt_ to move. He’d done it. He never ever wanted to do it again, but he’d done it. 

Damien kissed his forehead, and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “You did so well. I was worried, but you did it!” 

Robert would have laughed, but it turned into a wheeze instead. Ow. He pressed his nose against Damien’s collar, feeling soothed at the scent. “That sucked…” 

“I can imagine,” a bit of seriousness dimmed Damien’s smile, but he pulled Robert up easier than he should have been able too (maybe something to ask that Saul guy), and clicked his tongue softly when Robert stumbled. 

“I’ve already texted Lucien that I’ll be staying the night. Let’s get you to bed; some rest will do you good.” 

Robert couldn’t argue, and his leg sent jabs of pain all the way through him with each step of the staircase, but he made it. And promptly decided ‘fuck it’ about clothes and started the hard work of burrowing under the sheets. Damien sat beside him, shaking his head and pulling off his shirt without any blushing. A part of Robert was secretly pleased that Damien wasn’t self-conscious about his body anymore. He was a good looking man in any light. Without thinking about it, Robert reached out and tried to smooth the messy indent in the hair along Damien’s back where his binder pressed most of the day.

Damien shivered and laughed. “What are you doing?” 

“Have you ever thought about shaving or waxing your back? Looks like it must get irritated under your clothes.” 

“I have, but I decided that I would prefer to live with this naturally. After all, it does indeed appear to be part of the …werewolf condition, as it didn’t grow in until my first moon and you and Mary and even Crish are similarly blessed.” 

“Huh.” Huh. Well, that explained why he’d needed extra toweling for his back ever since that first moon. “I guess it must be.” 

“You seriously didn’t notice?” Damien stared at him with mouth open and then shook his head.

“I’ve always been a hairy beast, Damien.” Robert couldn’t help a smirk. “More hair didn’t stand out _that_ much.” 

Damien was still shaking head as he crossed to the dresser to get one of Robert’s shirts, and then crawled into the bed next to him. “I suppose not.” 

Robert tucked some of Damien’s hair back behind his ear, tweaking the faint tip to the top. “At least my ears didn’t get all pointy like yours.” 

“They did not!” 

“Sure did!” 

“Did—Oh dear. I suppose I must be glad that I have the habit of keeping my hair loose. Do you think anyone noticed?” 

Robert huffed a laugh into Damien’s shoulder, feeling the heavy-limbed sinking feeling that meant sleep wasn’t far off. “Nah. People don’t see shit unless it stands at the street corner and screams ‘look at me!’”

Damien was saying something but it was drowned out by Robert yawning fit to make his jaw crack. Yeah. Sleep was good.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically "Amanda, no." "I think you mean Amanda YES!" the series.

Their morning jog turned into a walk for Betsy, because Robert’s leg was still aching incredibly, and breathing wasn’t too great either. But Damien wound an arm with his and Robert ended up being entirely content. He’d end up restless later, he was sure, but for this morning, it was good. 

Damien didn’t have work, and Lucien was staying over at a friend’s so breakfast was next on the agenda. Robert was mixing together cubed ham, chicken, cheese, and some peppers to put in the omelettes he was making, and Damien was over at the griddle, working on bacon. The werewolf appetite was a doozy, and Robert was still pretty sure they weren’t eating _enough_ , or maybe not eating right, but food was food. 

There was a knock on the door, and bacon was a tricky thing. Since he hadn’t put the omelette-to-be in a pan yet, Robert wandered out to the front door, deciding he didn’t give a damn if he was shirtless right now. He opened the door—

“Aha! I knew it!” 

Robert felt his eyes crossing as he tried to focus on the finger right in front of his face. A finger that was attached to Amanda. Amanda who had the pants and boots he’d lost when he’d changed. He was not drunk enough for this. Or wasn’t sober enough. Either way, this wasn’t happening. So he snagged the pants and boots from her arms. 

“I was wondering where those walked off to. Thanks kid.” 

Then he slammed the door in her face and wandered back into the kitchen. Damien smiled over his shoulder. “Who was that?”

“Amanda. I guess she found my pants too.” Robert shrugged and was about to go back to the omelette when there was more knocking, louder and insistent. 

“Seems like she may have had more to say,” Damien was laughing, the bastard, and Robert groaned. 

But the knocking wasn’t going away and he was definitely too hungover (or did it count more like withdrawal if he only had a couple drinks the day before?) for it to continue. So, feeling more than a little cranky he went back to the door and yanked it open. 

Amanda had her fist raised for another round of pounding, and gaped for a moment before she took a deep breath, cleared her throat and thrust her finger in his face again. “Aha! I knew it!” 

Robert raised an eyebrow and dragged a hand through his hair. Really? “So you figured out the location of my secret lair. What, you want a trophy for it?” 

“Yes. I mean no! I mean, that’s not what I figured out!” Points for effort, but if she could be thrown off course that easily, she needed to practice her dramatics more. 

But Robert could play along so he leaned against the door jam, and drawled, “What did you figure out?” 

“So I went to the shelter as soon as it opened this morning to check on Buck. I mean, you can’t not after rescuing a dog! That’s what you do. But I was told he’d been adopted and everything last night, and that’s totally suspicious, because he had busted ribs and wouldn’t the shelter make sure he was healthy before adopting him out first and—“ 

Amanda had to pause in her rambling to take a couple breaths. “But Buck definitely wasn’t there, and the papers were signed by some lady, and I thought. I thought ‘this is way suspicious!’ so I decided to investigate. I even talked to Mr. Vega,” Amanda stopped her rant again to shudder theatrically, “this morning! And then I found the jeans and boots where we found Buck yesterday and you totally are hiding Buck from me, aren’t you!” 

Okay. Well, at least she hadn’t jumped to the correct conclusion, even if it was still too close for comfort. A delicate little ‘crunch’ and the smell of bacon alerted him to Damien venturing out of the kitchen, and Robert accepted the plate without looking away from the girl in his doorway. Mm, bacon. 

“Are you really going to make her stand on your porch? At least be courteous and invite her in.” Damien was gently chiding, but a hand found the small of his back and softened the sting. 

Her eyes went so wide they were almost bugging out, Amanda worked her mouth around words that wouldn’t come and finally got out something resembling speech. “Oh my god. You two— I mean, I don’t judge but! I … Wait, Mr. Bloodmarch aren’t you vegetarian?” 

Robert laughed. “We’re part of the Cul-de-sac Cuddle Club. Sometimes even a loner like me needs a little human contact, so we help each other out, no messy sex or romance attached.” 

That was… a little close to the actual truth of things and quick glance showed Damien’s face flaming, but then Damien rolled his eyes and pressed closer, snagging another piece of bacon from the plate. “Robert, you know I appreciate your tales, but just saying that we’re friends who support each other would have done just as well. As to the vegetarianism… I would like to be, but the flesh is sadly weak. Robert’s bacon is simply too good to resist.”

Amanda was choking, but then she squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes. “You are not gonna get away with distracting me. I came here for Buck.” 

“Buck?” Damien repeated back, looking more than a little lost. 

“Yeah. Unless you’re gonna try to tell me he’s really named Robbie, and that wasn’t a cover up to hide your slip and Robert’s involvement. I’m totally onto you.” Amanda shouldered her way into the house, whistling and calling, “here boy!” 

Betsy, of course, wasn’t about to turn down a chance to get pets, and tore out of the backyard and through the doggie door, barking. Amanda cooed and made the appropriate obeisances to her new doggy overlady, before looking up and wrinkling her nose. “Dad told me that you said you had a pit bull. Nothing wrong with Boston Terriers! But… not a pit bull.” 

“Who says my Betsy isn’t a pit bull deep inside? She’s got the soul of a pit bull.” 

Amanda cruelly abandoned Betsy to put her hands on her hips. “Then why do you have a picture of a pit bull in your wallet?” 

Robert shrugged. “Sometimes a story needs an emergency pit pull picture to make it all come together.” 

“Right. But where’s Buck? I know you have to be hiding him. A dog that big doesn’t just poof.” Amanda made a gesture that she probably thought demonstrated poof but looked more like jazz hands.

Robert was hungry, so he just shrugged. Damien could entertain her while he worked on the omelettes, since the bacon was sadly gone. “Betsy’s the only dog here, and I’ve got some eggs to break in the kitchen. Try not to set off the bigfoot traps in the hall closet when you search the house.” 

He turned and promptly stumbled as his leg reminded him that he should definitely still be limping for his safety. Robert swore, got his leg back under him and resolutely headed for the kitchen. He wasn’t going to admit that that had just happened. 

“What happened to your leg?” Great, Amanda was obviously following. “And your back looks kinda torn up under all that hair… Wait. _Wait!_ ”

Shit. She was gonna figure it out, wasn’t she? Robert twisted his head, looking for Damien, who was standing very very still, as if he could just disappear. Well, that was no help, but Robert didn’t blame him. 

Amanda was still talking. “Crap. I mean, it sounds impossible, but what’s that saying about the most improbable thing being true if you rule out everything else? Dad was so grumpy about you calling yourself a big bad wolf, and my what big teeth you have. He actually said that when he got home from the bake sale. Anyway! Buck is always found around you. First your house; Mr. Vega said so! Then we found all of your clothes right near Buck yesterday, and there was blood, and your back is ripped up and you’re limping and— Holy shit, you’re Buck, aren’t you?”

“Fuck.” Because that was about the only response Robert had for that. He’d figured out, and heard from Andrew, just how smart Amanda was, but he hadn’t been prepared for her to use those smarts on _him_. 

“This is so _cool_. Wait… did you get hit by a car or something?” Amanda was wringing her hands. “Because you’re banged up and— Or was it a fight with another werewolf? Weredog? Werewolf sounds cooler. That would be cool, but also scary, because if there’s a good werewolf and a bad werewolf going at it on TV, other people usually get hurt in the crossfire—“ 

Damien stepped forward, his hands up. “Why don’t you sit down to breakfast with us and we’ll explain? I see no point in attempting to hide it from you now that you’ve figured it out.” 

“I’m making meat-lovers’ omelettes,” Robert interjected helpfully. Teenagers liked food, right? 

Amanda crossed her arms, tapped her foot and then tossed her head and agreed. _Teenagers_. But she listened quietly while Robert and Damien (mostly Damien, who was better with words anyway) explained the very basics. Robert approved of leaving out the whole mess with Joseph, at least for now, but at least Amanda had gotten the reasoning behind Damien’s diet change and didn’t probe further at points Robert was worried she would. 

With a replete sigh, Amanda pushed her plate away, after packing away enough that Robert wondered if she might be a wolf herself. But her eyes gleamed. “So my dad and I, we tell each other everything. I mean, not the gross old man sex stuff that I fully support my dad doing as long as I don’t have to hear about it _ever_ , but everything else. And he said you said there was more than one big bad wolf, and I don’t think you mean Damian. He’s like an adorable werepuppy. Sorry, but it’s true. I totally noticed you rushing over the biting thing. Is the one who bit you the other big bad wolf?” 

This… was potentially a good way to get another ally on their side to protect Andrew from Joseph. “Yeah. Joseph lured me onto his yacht one night and bit me.” 

Skipping over the sex thing, because Robert really wasn’t drunk enough to deal with that. Also Andrew would probably kill him and he liked Andrew more than he probably should for a man he was just trying to save from Joseph. That was it. It really was. Probably. 

But Amanda cackled instead of the expected reaction. “Good one! For a second I almost… believed— Fuck. You’re not joking, are you? The Youth Minister is a _werewolf_?” 

Robert shrugged. “You know what they say about wolves and sheep’s clothing. Well, this one found himself some shepherd’s clothing.” 

“Fuck. Wait, I already said that.” Amanda bit her lip. “But he seems like such a nice guy, though. I mean, his kids are creepy and he’s so perfect and normal and always has this everything is just peachy attitude that it’s almost suspicious and I just explained everything to myself right now, didn’t I? How dangerous is he? Dad seems to think you’re either jealous or warning him in the most obnoxious way possible.” 

How to put this delicately? …Fuck it. “Joseph has Problems,” Robert made sure to pop the p to emphasize it, “and if he was just human, he wouldn’t hurt others with them, but he doesn’t _ask_ before he bites, kid, and turning into a werewolf is dangerous as hell. Sometimes people die instead of turning.”

Damien who’d been quiet for a while after handling the explanation leaned forward. “We have reason to believe that Joseph wants to turn someone else soon, after Robert… backfired on him.” 

“What can I say? I’m a rebel and he was trying to be all authoritative.” 

Amanda held up her fist. “Hell yeah. Problems with authority fistbump!” 

Robert rolled his eyes and bumped fists, but only because he wanted to stay on her good side (damn, she was adorable). 

“So, I’m totally on the side of keeping my dad away from the big bad wolf, but I want in on the sweet wolf time in return. It’s totally unfair that you’ve been running around in secret and withholding those prime petting opportunities from the rest of us!” Amanda grinned at what was probably the very unsure looks on their faces. “What I’m saying is, can I tag along on the full moon and watch you do the wolf transforming thing? And pet you, obviously. Because petting wolves, hell yeah!” 

Damien buried his face in his hands, and Robert barked out a laugh. “You realize that changing involves stripping beforehand, right?” 

At least she had the grace to go red. “Oh. Right. Uh. Let’s skip the watching of the transforming thing. I still wanna see you guys as wolves, in, like, your natural environment.” 

Robert looked at Damien. Damien looked at Robert. Shrugs were exchanged and Robert laughed again. “I think we can make a deal.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And from here on out, Joseph is going to start behaving more recklessly, because he's starting to feel at the end of his rope/backed into a corner.

Robert suspected that things with Amanda had gone a little _too_ well, but he was going to do what he did best and pretend it wasn’t a problem until he couldn’t ignore it anymore. And as much as he didn’t want to face any of his problems, today was Sunday, which meant dealing with Joseph for the weekly afternoon picnic. Without Damien’s comforting presence, because they’d agreed with Mary that keeping Damien as far away from Joseph as possible was the best thing. 

So with a limp, and the familiar dread-want combo curling in his stomach, Robert knocked on the front door. Joseph liked to convene the little picnics inside for some reason, touching base or shit before heading out to the backyard. 

The door opened and lights flashed in front of his eyes. Robert was trying to figure out what happened when the floor came up and smacked him. Something tightened around his neck, and he struggled. 

“How dare you. I’ve tried to be understanding, let you come to me freely, but you’ve gotten out of control! Things are going to be different now.” Joseph’s voice, hissed next to his ear, seething with fury. 

Robert flinched, tried to twist around to at least look at Joseph, but Joseph held him effortlessly, and whatever was around his neck threatened to cut off his air so he stilled. Shit. Shit. _Fuck_. 

He was yanked up, kneeling instead of on his belly, but that wasn’t much better, because his arms were yanked behind him, and a shoe planted in his back, push-pulling and— What the hell. 

Rope. Joseph was tying him up. No. Hell no! “Joe— Stop—“ 

The rope tightened, and Joseph was more relaxed, fury gone cold but not gone. “I can’t. You need discipline so badly, Robert. I hate doing this, because submission is supposed to be beautiful and natural, and I know you’re going to fight me, but you give me no choice.” 

“Let me go, you bastard!” His heart was pounding, he couldn’t catch his breath, his skin crawled where the rope pressed. It didn’t hurt, but that made it _worse_. Robert couldn’t move, couldn’t twist or even slump. Every attempt pulled the rope around his neck tight enough that it threatened to cut off his air. Oh god. Oh _god_ —

“Shhh, don’t fight it, Robert. I’ve got you. The rope has you.” Joseph finally moved around so Robert could see, and his expression was so… gentle. Robert felt like he might throw up. Joseph shook his head and cupped Robert’s cheeks. “It’s my fault because I didn’t bring you to heel right away. I was hoping you’d come back to me on your own. But now you’ve gone after a _child_ , Robert. Damien was bad enough! But Daisy is such a sweet girl; how could you?!” 

“What? I didn’t—“ His cheek stung. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you. I know hitting doesn’t work.” Joseph pressed his lips together in a flat line, and then heaved a sigh. “It just makes me so angry. Ed was so wrong about taking children, you know. I understand, I do, that it’s easier for them to learn and adapt, but they’re _children_ and they can’t fully understand. Turning is far too frightening for them because they live in the now.” 

Turning was too frightening for anyone, but Robert was choking on his breaths. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t— He couldn’t— 

All his struggles got him was knocked on his side, rope digging into the front of his throat hard enough that he was sure he’d bruise and he gasped against the pressure. He was gonna die— 

There was a clang and Joseph dropped like a stone. He groaned and started lifting himself but Mary hit him with the frying pan a second time and this time Joseph didn't move afterward except the rise and fall of his chest. She knelt in front of Robert and swore as her fingers slipped off the ropes.

"Knife. In my pocket." That was all Robert could get out past the rope and the way he couldn't catch his breath. 

Mary sniffled away some tears as she dug into his pockets. "I told him it was too far. He didn't listen. God, don't you dare go into a full panic attack on me. I really can't deal right now." 

"Mommy?" Shit, Christie. She was peaking around the corner and Robert just couldn't. Nope. 

Mary sawed through the last rope and turned to give the kids a smile that looked like death. "Remember how I said to keep your overnight bags packed in case of a surprise trip? Well, surprise!"

"You're finally leaving?" Robert suddenly felt so much better. He could just kiss her.

Mary hung her head, mumbling. "Probably not permanent but I'm not going to stick around until he wakes up."

“Mary—"

"Don't. Just don't. I know, okay?" Mary got up and dug underneath the hallway stand to pull out a bag. "They're not mine but I love them, dammit. Any judge would believe Joseph over me and I can't right now. Once he's had time to cool down he'll read the email I sent and we can talk."

Dammit, Mary was probably right. And right now Robert would take what he could get. What Joseph had said... "Daisy?"

"Brian took her to the hospital this morning. There are infections that look similar but..."

He felt so cold and sick. "But I didn't, not even a scratch. She just petted me! Amanda did too and she's fine."

What the hell was going on? First scratches and now just petting? Robert climbed to his feet feeling way too exhausted for this. He needed a drink. A thousand drinks. The kids filing back into the hall made him wince. Christie was holding her brothers' hands while Christian tried to juggle three bags over one shoulder. Chris was standing back with no bag.

Mary groaned. "Where's your bag?"

"You're disrespecting your alpha. He's finally taking charge like he's supposed to!" Behind the sullen set of the kid's jaw there was fear though. He was holding himself too still, too tight. Robert realized with a terrible sick lurch of his stomach that he was saying what he thought he _should_ say. He was trying to be a good wolf, or whatever, and Robert could remember how Joseph had sounded when he’d said he’d _loved_ Ed. Fuck. 

“Get your bag, Chris.” Robert didn’t even like the kid, but he had to try. He knew how to bark out an order (war documentaries were good for something) and he saw Chris snap to attention at his tone. 

“You’re not my alpha. You’re not even my _dad_.” But there was a quiver in Chris’s voice. 

Robert almost felt bad for pushing. Almost. But he could tower, and he could scowl, and he could bullshit with the best of them. “And I don’t give a shit. You’re nothing but a wet-behind-the-ears pup. You can’t take care of yourself. You can’t even defend yourself. You rely on us for every damn thing in your life, puppy, so you best get your ass in gear or we’ll leave you out in the cold.” 

“You—! You wouldn’t do that.” 

Child’s play. Robert laughed. “You really think that? You’re useless to me, to this pack. All you do is take up space and eat our food. I’m gonna give you one chance because you are a kid, but if you turn me down, I’m not gonna give a damn about you from now on.” 

Chris stepped back, and then tried to square up his shoulders and glare. “My dad wouldn’t—“ 

“Your dad is on the floor unconscious. He can hurt me, but he can’t control me, and you know what? A lone wolf is weak, and that’s exactly what he’s made himself into. Do you really think your mom has ever been on his side? She just didn’t have allies to back her up against him.” Robert shrugged and turned towards the door. It’d work or it wouldn’t. “But she does now, and together, me and Mary are stronger than Joseph ever will be.” 

There was a little hiccuping sound and then the sounds of footsteps on the stairs. Mary gave Robert a glare that said he’d be hearing about what he’d just done later, but leaned against him and a thank you was pressed against his cheek. They got Crish and the twins settled in before Chris came back down with a bag, and Robert didn’t even hesitate. He’d threatened and played on the kid’s fears, and honestly felt shitty about it, so he could make amends. 

He pulled Chris into a brief, hair ruffling hug. “Good man. Hop in; I’ll teach you some navigation tricks.” 

Robert got stared at, but then Chris nodded shallowly, and Mary hit the gas as soon as Robert was in the passenger seat. They only stopped long enough to pass on word of the Joseph situation to Damien and Lucien, who’d just pulled into their drive with a whiff of antiseptic rolling out of their car with them, and ask if Damien wanted to come, which he declined on account of work reasons. Robert wanted to wheedle to get him to come along anyway, but he got how important work was, he did. So he made Damien promise to keep in touch over text and Dadbook. Then they were speeding away and Robert hoped they didn’t meet any cops. 

“Where to?”

“Hospital first.”


	20. Chapter 20

The trip was short and painfully silent and when they piled out, Robert ended up with Crish balanced on one hip and his hand on Chris’s shoulder, while Mary had a small twin hand in each of her own. With a little internal wince, Robert realized they looked like shit, and he was definitely at the trembling stage of withdrawal, along with the persistent limp. Mary wasn’t any better, although she looked less ruffled. Robert was very aware of how much his throat hurt. He probably had a welt. 

There were familiar faces once they got where they were going. Mat, Carmensita, and Craig’s twins were in one corner, huddled together. Mat gave their group a really weird look but was quickly distracted by a worried question from… Hazel. Robert thought it was Hazel, anyway.

Craig was pacing back and forth across the waiting room, bouncing River in his arms. He barely looked at them, muttering a distracted ‘hi.’ 

Robert didn’t see Hugo or Andrew, but Ernest (who was still a little prick, but Robert didn’t have the energy to be antagonistic even in his own head today) was holding up a wall with hands shoved deep into his pockets, and Amanda was wringing her hands nearby. She bounced up when she saw Robert, expression unreadable. 

“Hey! Can I talk to you privately about a thing, Robert? I can call you Robert, right?” 

Robert shrugged. “They know, if it’s about what I think it is.” 

“Oh, okay.” Amanda leaned in close, brows furrowed, and she definitely got points for an actual whisper. “So… is werewolf blood, like poison or something? ‘cause Daisy got your blood on her hands and now she’s sick. And Brian got a little too, and he’s not _as_ sick but he totally has a fever now.”

Mary shrugged at him when he looked over for confirmation. Robert did his best to keep his voice as quiet as possible. “Uh. Not that we know of? But this also shouldn’t be happening right now, so your guess is as good as ours. It usually takes a bite or a scratch.” 

“Oh. Huh. Um…” Then Amanda stiffened. “Like, a caused by you scratch? ‘cause Daisy got a nasty scrape on her wrist when she fell.” 

“Fuck!” They all turned to stare at Mary, even the others in the room. She held the stares until the rest looked away and then returned to the whispering. “I think you’ve got it, and I didn’t even think of it like that. Robert, when Damien turned, he was getting glass out of your bloody paws and not wearing gloves like a dumbass. And if I’m right, Daisy got your blood in her scrape when she was petting you and blamo. It fits, because to turn with a bite, you _have_ to draw their blood. If saliva mixing with their blood turns, _blood_ mixing with their blood should turn too.” 

That made sense and meant Robert was gonna have to be very careful about bleeding. What if he’d nicked himself that night with Andrew? He wouldn’t have thought twice about having a cut of his own while taking care of the newbie whittler. “So blood or saliva in a wound means turning. But that doesn’t explain Brian.” 

“After the food’s out, what’s coming up is blood, or has blood in it.” Mary looked and smelled miserable, but had her shoulders squared. “If he had any kind of wound while cleaning up the mess…” 

They all just stood there in the uncomfortable kind of silence, but then Hugo and Andrew appeared at the end of the hall. Andrew didn’t look too surprised, but Hugo tugged on his mustache with a befuddled expression. “Ah… where’s Joseph? He mentioned that he’d bring everyone after the family picnic.” 

Uh. Shit. This didn’t look good in light of that, and Joseph was in his front hall with a concussion right now. Robert hated freezing, but he did. Mary wasn’t saying anything either. 

“Daddy has been mad a lot.” Christie wasn’t even doing her creepy twin thing, which was a very bad sign. “He said he was gonna punish Mr. Robert for not staying and being a family with us and—” 

Fuck. Robert really wished he was anywhere but here right now. He felt Chris stiffen under his hand, and the boy hissed at his sister, interrupting her. “Christie! We aren’t supposed to talk about that.” 

“But Daddy was being bad, not Mr. Robert.” Christian? What the hell? Robert hadn’t gotten more than three words out of the kid that weren’t the creepy twin thing in… ever. He hadn’t ever. 

Robert heard little hands clap. “So Mommy is taking us on a surprise trip with Mr. Robert!” 

Silence. Well, not literal silence, because Robert could hear the little nervous shuffles and every breath drawn, but close enough. He chanced looking around and yeah, every single eye in the room on them and Mat had his hands over Carmensita’s ears, but it looked like she’d heard anyway. Worse, Robert could follow Hugo’s gaze to what he was sure was the fresh welt on his throat. Worst, Joseph had apparently told his kids what he was planning with the rope and why, and they accepted it as normal, fucked up as that was. Did… did Joseph tie his own kids up as “punishment?” Robert suddenly wanted to go back to the house and hit Joseph with the pan until he wasn’t breathing. 

Mary swore, not quite under her breath, and when Robert glanced over she had her head in her hands. “Well that’s one skeleton I didn’t want to drag out of the closet today.” 

More silence, and Robert would have enjoyed it another day, but today it felt like a noose was swinging over his head. Andrew was staring him in the eye, flickering between suspicious and horrified. 

Finally Mat cleared his throat from the corner. “Is there… an explanation? Because, um, it sounds kinda … not good.” 

“Fuck it.” Mary ran her fingers through her hair and fiddled with her wedding ring, a twin to the one Joseph had a habit of slipping into his pocket if he thought no one was looking. “The quick and dirty explanation is that my husband has some… issues, and at least a quarter of them are because he’s gayer than a Pride Parade and has internalized badly. Then he decided to try and start an affair with my best friend and it’s all gone downhill since, so we’re all taking a trip out of town for a few days while he cools down and thinks hard about his mistakes. He’s a good man, and a good father, but also a very fallible person. We’d all appreciate it if everyone could just forget this little faux pas. Joseph needs help and support, not judgement.” 

Robert wanted to shout denial. Why was she defending Joseph? On the other hand, Robert could just imagine how dangerous Joseph could get if his entire world crumbled around him. So…maybe it was the best thing to do. 

He couldn’t do it. “He’s a shitty husband though.” 

“Robert—“ 

“I ain’t gonna lie for him, Mary. He’s an awful husband, and this is coming from _me_ here. I know shitty husbands; I was one.” 

Mary groaned. “Fiiiiiiine. He’s a terrible husband. Happy?” 

“Just peachy.” 

And more silence. Craig coughed. “Uh, dude, if you need a lawyer, I know a number to a good one. Got everything settled between me and Smashley with no problems.” 

“No thanks. We’re here to visit Daisy anyway.” Mary was just gonna plow on ahead with as much dignity as she could muster. Such a strong woman. “Which room is she in?” 

Mat rattled off a number, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “But they’re limiting it to two at a time, and don’t want kids in there. They’re really worried that whatever it is might be contagious.”

Robert took Mary’s exit as an excuse to plop down on one of the benches, and at Christian’s upset look, held out an arm. So then he had a kid on one leg, and a toddler on the other, but Christie grabbed her baby brother and proceeded to climb up with Crish in her arms. Dammit, his legs were gonna fall asleep. A minute later Chris sat beside him, and then leaned against him. That was the most contact he’d ever had from the boy, at least that Chris had initiated. 

“You’re still not my dad.” 

“I’m not trying to be.”

There was a long silence. Then Chris huffed out a sigh that Robert could almost feel through his jacket. His whisper was so quiet Robert had to pay close attention to even make out the words. “But… I think you’re right about Dad.” 

Robert wasn’t sure what to think about that so he just said nothing, and an awkward and uncomfortable silence reigned, with the other parents in the room sending worried, or unsure, or judging (probably) glances his way, but nobody willing to bring up the elephant in the room. He was now officially the guy who cheated on his best friend with his best friend’s asshole husband. Yay.

Mary stalked back into the waiting area, looking grim. “Brian’s admitted now. Smalls, get your ass in there and say your piece; we’ve got a long drive.” 

Then she held out her arms and the twins abandoned Robert’s legs. He nearly fell when he tried to get up, on account of numbness and the lingering pain, but wasn’t gonna look at anybody. 

Turned out he had to do some weird song and dance with putting a gown and mask and gloves on to be allowed in the room. Daisy looked really out of it, and the room stank of sickness and vomit. Brian looked a little better, like he was just starting the really sick stage. Robert cleared his throat. 

“I’m sorry.” 

That was not what he meant to say at all. Brian raised an eyebrow, but otherwise looked like he was intentionally holding very, very still. Made sense, considering how it felt to have everything inside wanting out. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” 

Robert felt a sting in his eyes and reached up to rub them, really tempted to rip the damn gloves off. “Yeah, I do. You caught this from me. Or… Daisy did. Shit. I didn’t know getting a little blood on her hands would— I’m sorry.” 

“You’re not making any sense.” 

“It was me. The wolf was me. That’s why Amanda found my clothes when she went looking for the cross pieces to the stretcher you guys made for me. Turns out getting pissed at somebody is the other thing that can make a werewolf change. Who knew?” 

Brian just stared. He opened his mouth once, closed it, and then leaned over to throw up into the pan the hospital had provided just for that purpose. When he was done he shakily rinsed his mouth out and his voice was weak. “What? Is this another one of your stories? This one isn’t very funny.” 

Robert shook his head, about to reply, but Daisy groaned. She struggled to prop herself up more and then gave up. “I thought so. He was too tame for a wolf, and too wolf to be a dog.” 

“Daisy…” 

But Brian apparently didn’t know what else to say, and Daisy wasn’t done talking. “So once I’m better, I’ll turn into a wolf? Will Maxwell still like me? Will I understand him better?” 

“Yes to the first two. And I don’t think it’ll help you instantly speak dog or anything, but I can spot things I’ve done in how Betsy behaves and make a better guess based on what I was thinking or feeling at the time.” Robert hadn’t really _thought_ about it before, but now that he was, yeah, he was pretty sure that he had understood Betsy a little bit better. 

Daisy smiled around a ‘good’ that didn’t quite make it to an actual spoken word and relaxed. Seconds later she appeared to have fallen asleep and was snoring softly. Brian looked over at her and then turned a frown on Robert. 

“I… Thank you, I guess? Even though it was just a story, this is the first time Daisy has really relaxed since she started getting sick. She’s always been so healthy…” 

“The hospital will take good care of you both. This is what hospitals are there for.” Robert felt his smile slipping, because hadn’t Mary said the first two had died in the hospital? Well, he wasn’t gonna worry Brian. “Should only last a week and a half or so, and then me and Mary will help you adjust to the rest. I promise.” 

Brian’s brow furrowed, like he was trying to find the lie or something, but then he nodded. Robert tried to shove his hands into his pockets, remembered the damn gown and then shuffled towards the door, limping. He’d stressed out that damn fracture too much, apparently. “Anyway, I should go.” 

“What happened to your leg?” 

Robert shrugged, not looking back. “Stress fracture. Got some in my shoulders and a cracked rib too.” 

He heard Brain draw a sharp breath in but the door to the room was already closing behind him, so Robert kept on going, glad to be out of that stupid gown.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a new installment of "Robert Small's Terrible Life Choices." In this chapter, Robert succeeds a little too well at one of his goals, and miserably fails at another. Oops!
> 
> Things that come up: alcoholism, toxic marriage, emotional neglect of a child. Robert also talks about Marilyn's death.

Halfway down the hall, Andrew was leaning against the corner, arms crossed and a serious look on his face. “So.” 

“So.” Robert didn’t want to do this, but avoiding it wasn’t fair to Andrew. “Don’t know about you, but I think I want to sit down for this.” 

“Are we actually going to _talk_ this time. No crazy stories? Don’t get me wrong, I usually like your stories, but I’m sick of the run around.” 

“No bullshit, but I’m not going to try to pretend the truth _isn’t_ crazy. Hell, if I wasn’t living it, I wouldn’t believe it.” Robert heard Andrew mumbling under his breath behind him, but he was busy seeking out a place where they could sit and talk without interruptions. He finally found a lonely looking waiting room for some doctor who didn’t do stuff on Sundays and sat himself down. Andrew sat in the row across from him, arms still crossed. 

So it was on him to start it. Okay, fine. Robert ran his hands through his hair, wishing for a drink. Wishing he’d been sober long enough that he wouldn’t feel shaky and vaguely ill anymore. “I guess you want to revisit the first night, huh? Because you don’t believe what I told you.” 

After Andrew nodding, Robert sighed. “Okay, first things first, I guess. I’m an asshole. I always have been. After telling my dad fuck you, did a turn in the military right out of high school; paid for my degree that way. Didn’t want to have a girl when I was facing probable deployment, so I got into the habit of finding easy lays, taking them back to my apartment for the night, and kicking them out in the morning. No fuss, except I was a miserable sack of shit. I tried to use things as a bandaid. First it was the souped up chopper I put together myself when I turned 19. Then it was nice clothes for a while, and let me tell you, being the best dressed off duty soldier on base got plenty of men and women into my bed for a night. Then it was—hell I don’t remember. Point was, I was never happy long. Ended up seeing active combat in there, and that made the happiness thing even more complicated.” 

Andrew looked confused, and Robert guessed he’d maybe gone back too far, but now that he’d started, it was so damn hard to stop. It felt good and horrible and satisfying to get it all out. Andrew wanted to know him? _Fine_! He’d show Andrew how fucking terrible he really was.

“Met Marilyn right after I got back from a tour of duty, and I was fucking done with being a soldier by then. And I thought maybe a family would work. It did, for a while. Found out I loved giving her things, and honestly, she loved getting them and showing them off, at least at first. Clothes, jewelry, wining and dining, adding a fancy sports car to my chopper, even though we lived in New York City at the time. Took on more and more work to pay for it all, and by the time Val was born, I was practically never around. Val had everything a child could wish for, except for a dad that was there. You know the song, ‘Cat’s in the Cradle’? Yeah, that was me. Things can’t make up for being there, and Marilyn started riding my ass about it, and Val started noticing and getting more and more unhappy with everything.” 

Andrew reached out and grabbed his hand, starting Robert out of talking for a moment, and that was when he realized he’d been crying a little. Shit. But he couldn’t stop now if he wanted Andrew to stay away from him _and_ from Joseph. Robert took a breath and kept going. 

“I was a shitty husband. Whenever we’d fight, I’d just fall back on buying shit and promising to be better. I ignored Marilyn when we were together half the time. Unless I was randy and wanted sex, which was often. I… never had a full on affair. Never touched, but I sure as hell _looked_ , which is just as bad when it comes down to it. Marilyn and I had plenty of fights over my porn. The rest of our fights were mostly over me not being there, being emotionally distant. You know, the usual.” 

Now was the hard part. Robert had to stop talking and swallow down a few times, but the hand around his squeezed and he somehow found it in him to keep going. 

“Came down to an ultimatum when Val was about to start high school. Both of us thought that staying together was better for Val, so we didn’t want to divorce, but we were both miserable and to the point where we couldn’t look at each other without sniping about something. So I got a job I could do from home, and bought the house here. We sold most of our shit, including the newest fancy car, and my chopper, and I got my old dirt cheap truck while Marilyn got herself an ancient station wagon. Val took the opportunity to decorate them both, like we didn’t dare allow with the fancy cars. She was always an artsy kid, Val, and I’d gotten her a something or other so she could make her own stickers and buttons and shit. Most of them have come off by now, but a couple stayed.” 

That… those were some of the good memories. The happy ones. They only made the ache in his chest worse, because he’d had the chance to make things right and ruined it. 

“We tried, Marilyn and I. Read some books, made a bunch of attempts to talk. I was around more, physically. But… Pappy drank hard all my childhood. I guess he quit a few years ago, when he got his new girlfriend. I started drinking young, and drank heavy until I got into the military. Stopped almost completely for a while, but I got back into old habits by the time Marilyn and I met. She was a social drinker. Wouldn’t touch a drop alone, but with someone else? She’d keep going and going, and so would I. But I kept a handle on it for a while, for most of Val’s childhood. Once we left New York and I was at home more, it got easier and easier to reach for the bottle when I was stressed or unhappy, or even bored. I knew what was happening, and I refused help for it. Only added a new thing for me and Marilyn to fight about, especially when I started missing appointments, or Val’s events. I’d swear up and down that I’d work on it, knowing that I’d make the attempt and give up, and what started out kind of good, for Val’s first year of high school…” 

Robert had to stop for a minute. Admitting how much of a failure he was took a lot out of him. “ _Val_ was telling us to get a divorce, by the time she was a junior, and also telling me to go to hell on the regular, when I’d promise to come to this or that thing and never showed up. I’d picked up ghostwriting for extra cash, so I could start buying both of them things again, because things are the answer to every problem, right? Ha. But Marilyn, she had the patience of a saint. She was giving me one last chance. Had to go to AA, get a therapist, pay off the credit cards and cut ‘em all up… I did, you know. One step at a time. The credit cards were first, then I got in two visits with the therapist before I finally walked into AA. But I got home from the first meeting to find the cops outside my door. Some hotshot kid in the kind of sports car Marilyn had adored when we first met had taken the turn up before the lookout too fast. Spun out, and took Marilyn’s station wagon over the bank. They told me she was killed instantly, like that’s some kind of comfort. I don’t remember a thing from that point until the funeral. Val told me I spent most of the preparations blackout drunk.” 

Andrew looked pale, quietly horrified. He opened his mouth to say something but Robert shook his head. “I lost my actual job because of it, but the ghostwriting is hell of a lot more lenient for a drunk. And I didn’t, _wouldn’t_ talk about it. Hell, I wouldn’t talk about anything at all with Val. Without Marilyn to push, I fell back on my old habits hard. Val didn’t want for food or clothes, or any _thing_ she asked for, but these past few months have been the most time I’ve spent sober, or close to it, since Marilyn died. So when Val graduated, I gave her all the money we’d put away for her college fund, Marilyn’s retirement fund, and mine. She took the money, told me to go to hell, and only came home when she had absolutely nowhere else to go on semester breaks. Few years ago she cut off all contact, and told me never to talk to her again. I respected that… until Joseph.” 

“Until Joseph,” Andrew repeated dully. 

Robert could only shrug. “You’re probably not going to believe me, but when I say Joseph is a terrible person behind the facade, I know what the hell I’m talking about. I’m terrible too. I deserve what I got, even what Joseph did to me today. See, I met Mary the week after she and Joseph moved to Maple Bay. She hit on me, and I told her she could look but not touch on account of the wedding ring, and we both laughed about it. We got along like a house on fire and a fast friendship was born. A pair of drunk peas in a pod. Even when she stopped drinking because she was pregnant with Crish, we’d still hang out most nights. All I knew about Joseph then was the public face he’s so good at keeping up, but I can spot a rotten marriage a mile off. Staying together for the kids, but one parent can’t deal and drinks to drown it. Mary might well have been me as a woman, I thought. But Mary came back to the bottle not even a month after Crish was born, and we went on a two day bender before Crish was even three months old. She didn’t tell me why until recently. And frankly, we’d probably say fuck this town and run off together, if it wasn’t for the fact that we know we’re both alcoholics that can’t take care of ourselves anymore, much less young kids. I’ve blown all my chances, and Mary’s blown most of hers, but you’ve still got a great daughter and a good future, and I say Joseph can’t get his hands on you and ruin you.” 

Andrew scowled. “I can’t figure out if you’re jealous, or if you actually believe he’s as terrible as you say. And I want to know what the hell you told Amanda to get her so firmly on your side, because all of the sudden _she’s_ warning me away from Joseph.” 

“She figured most of it out on her own. You’ve done a good job raising her to figure things out and think for herself. But I might as well say it. I know I don’t have a leg to stand on, and that anything coming out of his mouth is more believable than mine, but…” Robert took a breath. “Joseph is a werewolf. He also had a shitty childhood and really needs some therapy. I’m pretty sure he was trying for some threesome thing when he started sniffing around me. He was going on about us being a family now after. I knew better, and I still did it. I knew I should’ve gone to Mary when he showed me the divorce papers she signed. But! I use people for sex, because sex makes me feel so damn happy for a little while, and I sure as hell could hate Joseph after without feeling bad about using him and kicking him to the curb. Because I’m in Mary’s corner, and Joseph makes her unhappy. And if Mary took it bad, well, I deserve the hell out of that too. Because I’m a terrible person and I don’t get to be happy anymore. I don’t deserve it after what I did to Marilyn and Val.” 

Andrew looked pissed, but stopped mid-word when Robert pulled his shirt down and revealed the scar in the shape of teeth. “Joseph knew just what buttons to push to get me in bed with him, but what he really wanted was this. He didn’t ask me, and he won’t ask you either. Once he thinks he has you, he’ll go in for a bite and that’ll be that. Welcome to your new life as a werewolf.” 

Andrew snarled something at him that didn’t make it to words through his obvious frustration. He threw his hands up and stood, only to stalk in a circle and come back to the chair. His eyes were cold and narrowed when he finally said something. “You just can’t keep from making some fantastical story out of things, you— But… I don’t think you’re telling a tall tale this time either. Whatever the hell ‘werewolf’ is code for… Fuck. But you still haven’t told me about what the hell that first night was.” 

Robert felt relieved, almost. Andrew didn’t really believe, but he believed enough. So he cracked a grin he knew looked more pained than happy. “You gotta build things up right. Context is important. So now you know my M.O. I go out, flirt, take somebody home if they’re interested, give them a thorough fucking, and kick ‘em out next morning. And god do I hate easy lays. Therapist called it projecting once. And I was doing it to you under the flimsy excuse of seeing how easy it would be for Joseph to reel you in. Was I jealous? Eh, probably. Joseph got under my skin, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get him out of my thoughts. I sure as hell keep going back to him, in spite of everything. But also… both Mary and I could tell you were exactly the type of guy Joseph would want to pull in. Just one look at you, so cute and fumbling and wearing your goddamned heart on your sleeve. And damn me, I wanted a taste of that before Joseph got to you.” 

He had then, he did _now_. Robert clenched his hands into fists. “But I got you up there and I realized, I was behaving just like Joseph. I knew you were drunk. I could see that you were desperate for affection. Not sex, but… hell, call it what it is. Making love. You weren’t seeing the asshole I was, and instead thought my attention was something flattering. And I couldn’t go through with it. For some reason I couldn’t be that asshole who fucked you on your first night in the neighborhood and kicked you to the curb, alone and cold and confused the next morning. So I dropped some hints and sent you on your way. And I’ve been trying to keep you away from Joseph since.” 

“But _why_?” Andrew groaned that out through the hands he had scrubbing down his face. “I can definitely believe Joseph is deeply unhappy with his marriage and probably gay, but you make it out to be _malice_ and he was so…” 

He flailed with his hands. Like father like daughter. “… self conscious?” 

Joseph was good, and Robert suspected now that a lot of it wasn’t exactly an act. He could remember the heat of Joseph over him, how _wrecked_ Joseph had looked… 

He shook himself to bring his mind back to the present. “So he’d look at you, warm and butter soft, but his eyes would linger places they shouldn’t. Your mouth, the lines of your shoulder, the fly of your jeans… And his hands flex like he wants to touch you and he’d lean in— Or you’d do something innocent, playful, and his eyes go dark as his pupils blow out, and he blushes and gets distracted.” 

Andrew’s brow kept furrowing and his lips twitched up and down, but then he flinched. Bingo. Never-mind that Robert had been talking mostly about himself, Mary had dropped enough hints to establish that Joseph had a pattern too. “Joseph’s M.O. is to play up the unhappy husband, desperate for dick, but too bound by morals and shit to reach out and take it. It’ll seem like his resolve is wearing down, and he’ll get more overt, or maybe you’ll say fuck it and kiss him. But it’ll end at his yacht and him promising that he’s finally for real breaking it off with Mary, and god how much he wants you—“ 

Robert shuddered his way out of more memories to Andrew’s almost pitying look. “So that’s how… uh, your thing with him happened?” 

“I know enough from Mary that it’s about the same as what he did to the last guy, only I got things rolling by confronting him about the obvious hints before we undocked and then I got pissed when he fucking bit me and left. That guy got trapped on the damn yacht while Joseph sailed it back to Maple Bay.” 

Mary hadn’t told Robert much more than that though, but he could guess. And Joseph was so good at the public face; Robert could believe he was good enough of an actor to pull it off, with a little actual want to make it gel.

“He— You— Ugh! All three of you are messes.” 

“Preaching to the choir, pal.” 

Andrew sighed. “So fine. He’s a serial adulterer, and you seem to think I’ll just cave under the attention, so you’re trying to ‘save’ me.” 

The ‘save’ had actual airquotes when Andrew said it, and Andrew turned a bitter look on Robert. “But you don’t know me, and if you think I’m so naive that I’d fall for that—“ 

“You were a couple steps away from my bed, all ready for a complete stranger to fuck you.” 

And Andrew was suddenly shuttered and closed off, expression carefully flattened out. He was blushing but didn’t look like he was backing down. “Wow, way to insult a guy, Small.” 

Robert shrugged, and suddenly Andrew was up and walking out of the little waiting room. 

“You know, what I think Joseph needs is a good friend, instead of a bunch of judging, hypocritical assholes. You and your help can go to hell.” 

Then he was gone, and Robert hissed a breath through his teeth before gulping in another. Shit. Now he’d ruined it.

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to update every week.


End file.
